See You On the Other Side
by Magali1
Summary: COMPLETE- 2 chapters added 11/13/2012. Tim escapes Dillon to deal with his baggage; meanwhile, Lyla is just trying to move on with her life. Tim/Lyla fic, with Becky playing a large role, and Billy, Buddy, Mindy, Tyra, Jason and Eric all playing supporting roles. Primarily Lyla POV. Lots of Tim/Becky friendship.
1. Doorstep

**A/N:** _Wake Me Up _has gone on hiatus due to lack of views/interest and my loss of motivation to finish the story. If I can come up with a suitable enough ending, I'll repost and finish; it's not gone forever, I just didn't want it sitting unfinished on this site until I can come up with an ending. Anyways, this fic has been in the works for awhile. I've written many similar to it, usually with Tyra or Lyla in the position I put Tim in during this fic, but there was one thing the finale lacked for me and that was that they summed up Tim's angst too quickly. Tyra showed up, Tim was better again. It didn't sit right and seemed the least realistic of the storylines in the finale. So...I decided to put a twist on it and this fic was the result. I hope people aren't getting sick of my writing, especially since I'm only writing Tim/Lyla. It's my comfort zone, every time I try outside of it, the fic is a mess, but anyways, enjoy. :) (P.S. Coach Taylor makes an appearance in this fic in a way that I hope is in-character) :)

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**Chapter 1: Doorstep**

Lyla opened up her front door, while she was in the middle of studying for final semester exams, and found someone on her doorstep that she hadn't seen in years. And was certainly not expecting. Nor did she really know what to do upon seeing him. She leaned against it, waiting. She had been studying a long time. Perhaps this was her mind playing tricks.

The visitor, he sighed heavily, looking exhausted. He nodded to her, whispering. "Hey." As though it were perfectly commonplace to show up on someone's doorstep without so much as a 'hey.'

Lyla glanced over her shoulder into her house, not seeing anyone that he might want to say hello to, so he must have been speaking to her and then scanned him again. There was a bag on his shoulder. That couldn't bring good things with it. He was shifting nervously, his hand in his pocket. Alright. Hey it is then. She nodded curtly, her voice soft. "Hey."

"Can I come inside?"

Why? Not that she would begrudge him coming inside her townhouse. She stepped backwards into the foyer, holding open the door. She felt numb. This was…was this a dream? It was surreal. So she didn't say anything beyond: "My roommate isn't here." She closed the door behind him and turned, leaning back against it, still studying him. He didn't look…horrible. Not that she was expecting him to look horrible.

Hell, she didn't know what she expected him to look like. Buddy never mentioned him, just vaguely let her know that he was bartending for him, almost like a caution in the event she wanted to come home for Christmas. She'd decided to fly out to California to visit with her mother and stepfather. Maybe she expected him to look homeless or something, like what she envisioned a parolee to look like.

I have a terrible view of the world sometimes, she thought, closing her eyes briefly, her arms crossing her chest. She felt scared of him right now. He seemed…imposing. More so than he ever had before. "What are you doing here?" she murmured. She opened her eyes; tired. She snorted. "Am I harboring a fugitive right now?"

That was a mean thing to say, she instantly thought, seeing the hurt look flicker over his features. He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing. He closed his eyes, a breath pushing hard through his nose. "I'll go," he said, stepping to the door.

"No, wait, I'm sorry…I'm sorry, that was mean to say…" She tossed her bangs from her eyes, pushing her fingertips to his chest, stepping him back from the door. She gestured to the living room. "Come inside. I…" She felt like she was kidding and not kidding at the same time. I have a headache already and it hasn't been ten seconds. "Are you though…I mean…breaking a law? Parole?"

"No," he mumbled, looking down at his toes. He shook his head, whispering. "I got done with parole like two months ago."

That would probably peg it at eighteen months parole then. Made sense, she guessed. She pushed her index finger and thumb into her eyes, staving off the headache. Why? Why, why, why are you here? This is so unlike you. I haven't even spoken to you in almost three years. Lyla dropped her hands to her sides, looking up at him again, her forehead wrinkled; she was thoroughly confused. "What are you doing here?" she asked; practically sobbed. She gestured to the door. "You show up in Tennessee, for…for no reason! I haven't even spoken to you in three years, you go to jail!" She sighed, almost laughed. "You went to jail…" Whoa…wait…her eyes closed. Oh my God. First she felt sad, upset about it…found it kind of funny a split-second later, but now…her eyes opened and she lifted them to his. He stared back at her; dull and lifeless. She squinted. He went to jail. Jail. After…well now she was angry. Blood began to course through her veins, hot and fast.

You idiot! She screamed, slamming her hands into his shoulders, knocking him backwards. "You went to jail! I hate you!" She wanted to kill him. She began to hit and punch and kick, sobbing. Now that he was in front of her, all those emotions of confusion, pain, sadness, and in most cases, complete indifference, disappeared, replaced with hot, coursing anger.

He let her push him, knock him into the wall, until finally he'd had enough, grabbing her wrists when she went to slap him, sobbing out when he wrenched her wrists down between them, crossed in front of her. When she went to push, her elbows locked, facing the ceiling. She glared at him. "Stop it," he ordered. He was pained; this was hard for him too. "Just stop it Lyla."

"Stop what?" she snapped. She jerked her arms from his grasp, shooting him another dark look, but nonetheless retreated across her living room. This was too confusing. All I was doing was studying, just studying upstairs in her room and then the doorbell rang, so she came downstairs because her roommate Claire was taking a huge microbiology test and…and he was there on her doorstep.

"Just stop. Trust me, nothing you're thinking isn't anything I haven't already thought myself at some point in three years." He closed his eyes again, scrubbing at his face. He sighed, reaching to rub at his throat. "You got something to drink?"

No. There's no alcohol in this house. "My roommate is born-again," she whispered, rolling her eyes. Claire could be so obnoxious, talking about the mega-church she attended. Lyla found it interesting, because Claire was so old school about religion, but she was studying microbiology and physical anthropology. He frowned, unsure what that meant. Fine, I'll say it in idiot speak. She snapped. "Means she doesn't drink alcohol."

He shook his head, another flicker of hurt on his face. "I didn't mean that," he whispered.

Oh. She didn't apologize, even if she felt sorry for jumping to conclusions, walking into the kitchen and jerked open the fridge, removing a bottle of water. She threw it at him, maybe a little too hard; it almost sailed over his head, but he reached up and caught it. "Maybe you should have stuck with football," she snapped. She arched her eyebrow, chirping. "Or did you keep up your skills in the prison league?"

It was a snark and she pursed her lips, still pissed off at him. Tim set the water down after he took a few sips, screwing the cap back on slowly. "You know those comments Lyla?" He glared at her. "They don't look good on you."

I can fire right back, she thought. "Well I'm not really interested in looking good right now Tim. I'm interested in knowing why you're in Tennessee, during my senior year, during exams!" She flung her arms out, laughing. "You only think about yourself, don't you? It's all about Tim. You don't want college, so you drop out. You do something stupid because why the hell not, who cares about stupid things like laws!"

He flinched, but again, nothing. What is happening, she wondered, drawing back. He wasn't defending himself. Maybe he had changed. Of course he'd changed Garrity, she thought, dropping her chin to her chest. "What are you doing here?" she asked. She pushed away from the counter, walking back into the living room, away from him. "Can I have an answer please?"

Tim followed her, standing behind her as she looked out the window, staring at his black truck parked awkwardly in front of her townhouse, on the curb. He sighed again behind her. "Lyla, it's complicated."

"What's so complicated about it?" she whispered. She turned around, staring at him. He really was different. His hair was thicker, because it was shorter. How did I just now notice that? They'd been standing together and staring for the last fifteen minutes, but she just realized that his hair was short. It barely hit the collar of his shirt and was closer cropped to his head. He had a three-day old beard, which she'd noticed almost instantly. It showed how gaunt his cheeks were; since his face was less full. In fact, overall he appeared gaunt. The button-down shirt he wore was hanging from him and she could see his collarbone poking out through his skin. Bags also hung beneath his eyes. He must have driven three days straight to get here.

Something changed. Almost instantly. The moment she realized how tired and sick he appeared, she stopped. The anger dissipated. For now. She reached for him, turning him towards the staircase. "Come on, you should rest."

"Wait…" He turned at the base of the stairs, one foot on the step. He placed one hand on the banister and the other on her shoulder, his eyes closing. His eyelids looked blue. He really was tired. "Lyla…I'm not here for…I'm not…"

Why are you here, she wondered. She sighed, licking her lips and lifting her eyes to his again. "Tim, look…I have a roommate. You can stay for a couple of days, but it's finals time…before Christmas break….so this can't be forever, okay? You can't just drop in like this without letting…anyone know." She wondered if he'd let anyone know where he was. Or if he just up and ran for it.

"I know," he mumbled. He reached his hand down to hers, twisting with her fingers. He sighed, closing his eyes. "I just needed to get away…this was where I ended up." He let go of her, trudging up the stairs.

Lyla showed him to her bedroom. It was the larger of the two, because Claire said she didn't need material possessions or something like that when they'd rented the townhouse near campus. Not that by being the largest it was big, because it wasn't. It was still fairly small and the window overlooked an alley. She gestured to her bed, whispering. "You can sleep here for now, but at night, I get the bed and you get the couch downstairs. If Claire doesn't want you here, you'll have to go."

"Fine."

"Bathroom is across the hall. Towels are in the closet. Don't mess anything up." She left him in her room, going downstairs and into the kitchen. She reached for her cell phone, dialing quickly. It rang about twenty times, until Buddy's voicemail answered. She waited for his cheery message to end, speaking quickly. "Daddy, Tim is here in Nashville. In case anyone, family or otherwise, is looking for him. He's a mess. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll talk to you later." She hung up, setting the phone down with a clink.

What are you doing Lyla Garrity, she wondered, rubbing at her forehead again. Her fingertips fell to her lips and she closed, praying quickly. Dear Lord, she silently begged, ignoring tears pricking beneath her closed eyelids. Dear Lord, please don't let me screw this up. Please help me. Give me strength. Because I can't go through this again. She pressed her hand to her chest. A sob escaped from between her lips. It had been three years and in those three years she'd moved on. He didn't control anything she did anymore or dictated how or why she would be happy. She wasn't about to let that happen again.

This was real life now, she thought. She looked over her shoulder, at nothing. At her empty living room and kitchen. With Tim sleeping upstairs. She slumped backwards against the counter, sliding to the floor, her knees to her chest and her arms around her head, holding it down while she took deep breaths. I cannot go through this again. She didn't care why he was here, but he had to go.


	2. Front Door

**A/N:**Thank you for the reviews :)

ETA: Lylas outburst will be explained a little later in the fic but I was I operating under the statement she made to Tim in 3.1 "Dont make a fool out of me." Him going to jail, she probably might at least think deep down that he kind of did, even if she had already accepted that he wasn't going to change much. But yeah, that's where I was coming from Naguabo. A lot is explained later.

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**Chapter 2: Front Door**

"Lyla! Shit, Lyla wake up!"

What was going on? Lyla jumped a little, lying on the couch, a large physiology textbook on her lap falling off onto the floor with a bang as it hit the hardwood. Claire, her roommate, jumped backwards to avoid the book landing on her foot. Not that it would matter, since she had boots on. "What?" she grumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

Claire, who had giant green eyes, was staring at her, looking curious but slightly scared. She gripped her shoulders tightly and hissed. "There's some guy upstairs in your bed! He's sleeping, but I have pepper spray and don't you have a gun your daddy got you when you moved here?"

"Yes, but…" It wasn't loaded. Some use of protection. It was upstairs in her nightstand anyways. Lyla leaned backwards on her elbows, peering up at Claire with a slightly clearer expression. She swallowed and rubbed at her neck. "That's Tim."

"Who is Tim?"

"Tim's my…" Lyla sighed. She didn't know what he was. "He's someone from my hometown. He's going through something."

Claire squinted. She raked her hand through her cornflower blonde hair, sending it pouring over her shoulders like a waterfall. "Wait…Tim…" Don't put it together, Lyla begged silently, already seeing the inner workings of her friend's mind. She got up from the couch, trudging into the kitchen, Claire following. She squealed when she put it together seconds later. "Tim from your hometown! The guy you hooked up with when you went back your freshman year? The one who wanted you to stay with him? Oh Lyla! What's he doing here? Didn't he…" Her eyes widened again like giant green moons. "Oh my God, Lyla, Sweet Jesus, he's a felon! We're harboring a felon!"

"For someone so smart you are stupid," Lyla snapped. She leaned her forearms on the counter, lifting her head, whispering. "He's no longer a felon…well, he is, but he's not in jail or parole or anything, so it's fine. He just…" I have no idea what he was doing here. She rubbed her eyes again. What the hell time was it? It felt like she'd been sleeping for hours, and if she'd been sleeping for hours than Tim certainly must have been sleeping for far longer. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Damnit, she'd only been asleep for an hour. Lyla hated that. It always left her feeling unsatisfied when she woke up earlier than her body wanted. She rubbed her face again, focusing on Claire, who was glaring at her, silently demanding an explanation. Which she was due, as this was her house as well. "Fine," she sighed. She shook her head, whispering, and peering down at her fingers. "Tim showed up earlier today. He…I don't know why he's here Claire, but he clearly drove all the way from West Texas to Nashville for some reason. Until I find out what that is, he'll stay here, but…"

"Lyla no," Claire whispered. I know, she thought, closing her eyes. Claire continued. "Lyla, I'm one of your best friends, I was with you freshman year when you came back after midterms and you were miserable for days! I thought someone had died when you'd gone back home."

Someone had died, Matt's father, it was part of why she'd gone back, to attend the funeral. Lyla looked over Claire's shoulder, seeing Tim coming down the stairs. "Shh," she hissed, walking around the counter, approaching Tim. "Hey," she whispered. She nodded to the stairs. "You okay?"

"Fine." Tim glanced at Claire, frowning slightly. Claire glared at him. Blaming him for my problems, she thought, knowing that Claire was just protecting her. It's what friends did, and she knew that she hadn't been in the greatest shape after coming back from midterm break. Nor was she in the best shape several weeks later, around Thanksgiving, when she'd gone with Claire to Claire's house in South Carolina, because Buddy warned her things were not going well for Tim and that he was looking at going to jail. Then he did.

That was the last straw Lyla had had with Tim Riggins. She'd removed everything in her possession that had a connection to him, pushed him out of her mind, and moved on. Like she had always intended. She was a new woman. A woman who had no further connection with a high school boyfriend and wouldn't let him drag her down. She felt sorry for him, but that was the extent of her feelings. Lyla gestured to Claire. "Tim, this is my roommate, Claire Hutchison."

"Pleasure," Claire drawled, with her soft Charleston accent. She lifted her chin, almost sneering at him. "You're the ex-boyfriend."

Tim glanced at Lyla, who said nothing. It was true. "Yes."

"Why are you here? Do you realize what this is doing to her…I have half a mind to…"

"Claire!" Lyla exclaimed. She flushed; this was not appropriate. She shot her best friend a dark look. "I'm fine. Tim, we need to…talk or something." This was not the place for it either. She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder cross-wise and grabbed her jacket, walking to the front door. "Come on Tim."

"Lyla!" Claire shouted.

"Tim!"

Torn between whether he should listen to the roommate berate him or to his ex-girlfriend demanding he follow her, Tim stood in the same place, looking confused. He finally turned, slowly following Lyla out of the house. He made a move for his truck, but Lyla shook her head. She was not going to ride in that thing unless she had to; this wasn't high school or Texas. "My car," she told him, approaching her Ford Escape. She liked it better for cross-country drives, plus she had to have more room for…

"What the hell is that?"

Lyla glanced at the bags and the large massage table folded up in the backseat of the SUV. "It's my work," she answered, climbing into the driver's side while Tim took the passenger. She backed out of the tiny parking space beside the row of townhouses, pulling onto the tree-lined street. She loved Nashville. Depending on her job prospects, she hoped to be able to stay here, but she also knew that in her chosen profession, she had to get a Master's. Tennessee was willing to offer her a graduate assistantship, so she would have to move to Knoxville, but that wouldn't be so bad, she thought.

Tim turned back around, looking out the front. "What work?"

"Sometimes Tim, you have to work to make money." She threw in another nasty comment. "You can't strip cars just because it's a fast and easy paycheck."

He waited a second, before firing back. "You know Lyla, you can't say stuff like that. You don't know…" He trailed off, whispering. "Anything."

I don't need to know anything. Lyla gripped the steering wheel tightly. She didn't know where she planned on going, so she drove away from campus and towards the riverfront. She parked in an hourly spot, shoved her placard that said she was a student, so she could get a discount when they left, and climbed out of the car. Tim followed. She started walking. Just…walking. It was a rather chilly day for Tennessee. The breeze coming off the river made it seem colder than it actually was. She wrapped her arms around herself, walking to the Shelby Street Bridge. "This is nice," Tim whispered.

"Why are you here?" Just tell me. Tell me and get it over with. She looked up at him, shaking her head. "You saw how my roommate reacted to you, Tim. You're not going to get a warm welcome here. What do you want?"

"Why do you think I want something?" he asked.

"Because Tim." She stopped, at the top of the stairs leading to the bridge, her hand gripping the railing. She met his eyes; he was almost silently begging her to just give him…she closed her eyes. No, that was a look he'd used his entire life to get whatever he wanted. Lyla wasn't going to let him use it on her this time. She sighed. "Because Tim, you always want something. Whether you say it or not, you always want something and you're not going to be in Nashville just to see me." She paused. "You made it perfectly clear that Dillon is your home and you were willing to give up a possible future…and education…whatever it was, you gave it up to stay in Dillon, so forgive me for not being welcoming of you back into my life." She turned, stomping up the metal staircase to the bridge. He followed, stopping beside her when she reached the top, looking out at the river and across to the Edgehill neighborhood. "Why are you here?" she repeated.

"I…" Tim trailed off, leaning against the railing. He pushed backwards, walking past her, his hands in the pockets of his sheepskin and corduroy jacket, walking away. He looked so…Lyla cocked her head. He seemed very sad. Perhaps she was being harder on him than he deserved. What you say isn't something I haven't said to myself at some point in the last three years, he'd said. She was sure whatever had gone through his mind had been worse. This was the same person who blamed himself for paralyzing his best friend, as though he was the one that tackled Jason. She sighed, following him, jogging down the bridge to meet him, where they both slowed, walking silently for a moment.

He stopped again, leaning backwards against the railing, looking straight at her. She shook her head, waiting. "I…" he sighed, blowing out a hard breath. He turned around, leaning a hand on a buttress, gripping it tightly and peering down at the water. "I just needed to…to see something else…it's been…hard."

"Returning to life after prison is hard," she whispered. She sighed, going to stand beside him, her hands on the railings now. She waited a moment. "Tim, do you have a job or something?"

"Not really, it's just…odd jobs."

"What kind of odd jobs?"

"I do some…construction here and there…work for the county pouring tar…hard shit," he whispered. He leaned his head against his hand, closing his eyes. He looked ready to sleep standing up against the bridge. He opened his eyes again, whispering. "I still work on cars, but…can't get a job with a garage if you've been put in jail for stripping them."

"I don't imagine so."

Tim glanced down at her. He smiled slightly. It didn't meet his eyes. He closed them again. "I built a house," he sighed. "On land that I bought after you…after you left."

Yes, her father told her something about that. She squeezed her hands tighter on the railing. Her knuckles turned white; pink around the rings she had on several of her fingers. It was something she'd come to like, the last couple of years. If she wore rings, she could fiddle with them when she got anxious or nervous. Sometimes they helped her remember things during exams. She touched one, with a little panther in the silver. Something she got at a junk shop last year in Myrtle Beach, when she and Claire went on spring break.

Tim spoke again, his voice husky; it seemed like he hadn't used it in a few years. "I thought I was better. Believe me Garrity, I was a lot worse." He let go of the bridge, turning away from her.

You seem better already. You just called me Garrity. She followed again. He stopped at another buttress; did the same thing. Leaning against it and closed his eyes. Lyla shifted on her feet. She didn't know this Tim. He was sad, he was…he was just so sad. She shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, clenching them tight. "Tim if you built your house…if you never wanted to leave Dillon and just wanted a home, then...then why are you here in Tennessee?"

He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and frowned at her, like he was just seeing her for the first time. "Tennessee?"

I'm scared for you, she instantly thought. Do you even know where you are? Lyla frowned deeper. "Tim you drove to Tennessee. Did you just…" Did you just get in your truck and start driving or something?

"I…I just…" Tim sighed again. He swallowed hard. "It's complicated, Lyla. I told you."

"What's so complicated Tim?" She threw her hands in the air, her voice rising with the anger she felt again. "You thought you could make a few quick bucks by stripping cars after Billy closed the shop for the night. It backfired, you did your time, and you…you're a good person, so I'm sure you won't do anything like it again but you finally had some consequences for your actions…"

Lyla was on a roll, prepared to really just let him have it, when he whirled around, his hazel eyes flashing angrily. "Just stop it Lyla! I didn't do it!" he shouted. He spun back around, storming off.

She froze. What? Her eyebrows formed a deep 'v' in her forehead. What the hell? He couldn't just…didn't…she growled, chasing after him. Don't you run away from me like that Tim Riggins, she wanted scream, like they were on the playground at Woodgate Elementary again, after he'd pushed her in the dirt and laughed with his friends. She grabbed his arm, jerking him around. "What?" she asked. "What do you mean by that?"

He looked remorseful for his outburst. Hell, you at least showed some emotion other than pain. "Nothing. I just…look Lyla, I can't be in Dillon with Billy right now, okay? I thought I could, but I can't. I thought I could just build my house and everything will be okay, Tyra said it would be okay, but it's not!" he shouted, pushing her away and storming off again.

Tyra? What did Tyra….oh, she thought, closing her eyes. She felt a little sick to her stomach, feeling it turn in slight revulsion. They always were more alike than she cared to admit, she thought, seeing him retreating as far from her as possible, almost to the end of the bridge. Buddy told her that if she didn't want to come back for Easter one year, he'd understand, because…well because Tyra was in town, he didn't think she'd want to be there. Now she got it. She caught up with him, at the end of the bridge. "Tim," she whispered, turning him around. He stared down at her, dull and listless. This was not Tim, she thought again. This was not the boy she loved. She sighed, sad for him again. Her arms reached up, wrapping around his neck. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I just thought…" He sighed hard, but it sounded like a sob. "It would get better, but it's not." He pressed his forehead into her shoulder. "Garrity I just…"

"You can stay." It was a thought, blurted out immediately. It wasn't until after she said it, did she realize what she'd just said. Lyla sighed again, pulling back, her hands framing his thin face. She nodded, whispering. "You can stay Tim. Just for…for a few days. Maybe like a week?" She smiled, soft, and her eyes sparkling. "Maybe a break from Dillon will help clear your mind." She hesitated. This probably wasn't the best time, but it needed to be stated. "Tim, this thing between us…I hope you understand…it is over."

The way she said it was finite. Because it was. It was finite. "I'm going to be your friend," she said. She sighed hard, seeing the hurt look again staring back at her. "Tim, I don't know what went on with you and Tyra…I can imagine, I'm sure its worse in my head, but…" She laughed gain, tears pricking her eyes. She smiled. "But I am not going to fall into bed with you again. I…I am not going to go down that road with you again. We're friends."

Tim shook his head, mumbling. "Why do you think…nevermind."

"Why what?" she asked.

"Forget it. Thanks for letting me stay, sorry its such a huge problem for you." It was tinged in sarcasm.

You selfish little jerk. She pushed at his shoulder again, knocking him sideways. He glared at her and the suddenly, he pushed back, but with not enough force to really do anything but make her slightly off balance. She hid her smile; good, you're angry. It's a good emotion to show sometimes. "Huge problem?" she asked. She shook her head, laughing. "This is painful Tim! I'm going to be your friend now; I'm going to try to forget you just said that the way you said it. You want a break, you get a break, but I am not sleeping with you and I am not going to waste too much of my time on you. I have exams this whole week; I don't have time to be your babysitter! You want a break, you get a break, but I am not Tyra and I am not fucking you to make you feel better about yourself. I don't care if it's for old times sake and that's all it ever will be." She slashed her hand through the air. "We are over. Fucking over."

I hate swearing, but he had to get the point. She stormed away from him, walking back down the bridge. By the time she reached her car, he was already beside her again. Lyla said nothing, climbing inside and Tim following. She sat in the car, leaning against the window. Tim turned his head slightly. "In all the years I've known you, Lyla Garrity, I've never heard you say the word fuck," he said. There was almost a hint of pride in his voice.

"I didn't like how it sounded," she mumbled. She swallowed hard. "And I don't like using it as a verb."

"Just a noun."

Her eyes darted sideways; the hazel was slightly sparkling. There was a bit of humor beneath the pain and sadness he carried with him. She quirked her lip upwards. "You know, I'm not the same girl Tim."

"I know Garrity." He shook his head, whispering, still staring straight at her, his eyebrow lifted slightly. He seemed proud. "I'm very aware of that fact."

"I like this new me," she continued. She didn't know why. He had to know. "I've changed. I'm…I'm really happy. We didn't break up because I don't love you, but…we're on different paths. Obviously."

Tim nodded, whispering. "I know. I know you're different. We're different. I just wanted…" The sadness crept back into his words. "I just wanted someone who…someone different, okay?"

Someone not Tyra helping you, she thought to say, but she didn't want to talk about Tyra Collette. She'd heard that Tyra had probably changed the most out of everyone in their high school and was at UT, working for some non-profit in Washington, D.C. right now. That was of course, according to Facebook, so who knew how true it was. Not that Lyla trolled Facebook, but sometimes she liked to see what the others were up to. She shook her head, whispering. "I'm not talking about her Tim." I don't care what went on with you guys. Or how hurt you might be. It'd be really lousy of you to come to me for help getting over your ex-girlfriend, who probably still hates me.

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Yeah, me too. She put her car back into gear, driving out of the parking lot. They said nothing the entire drive back through Nashville towards the university. They continued to say nothing when she went back inside and grabbed her physiology book, retreating to an armchair in the corner of the living room and beginning to read, while Tim fell back onto the couch and passed out. Just like old times, Lyla thought wryly, turning a page in the book.


	3. On the Threshold

**A/N:** This fic is kind of slow-moving, so fair warning. A lot of questions that get asked early on get answered, but a bit later. I'm trying to keep it semi-realistic. It's also entirely from Lyla's POV, so Tim's POV is kind of a mystery and I did that for a reason, because well, Lyla is my favorite :) And I thought that something like Tim going to jail would kind of devastate her (to a point) and I wanted to see her reaction/response to it all. Anyways, thank you so much for the kind reviews and enjoy :)

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**Chapter 3: On the Threshold**

"Daddy….can I just…" It didn't matter. Buddy was still talking, like he hadn't heard her. I wish I could get a word in edgewise, Lyla thought, sitting up in her bed. She had her head against the twisted iron headboard, her hair sticking up everywhere and her mind still cloudy with whatever dream she'd been having when her phone rang sometime around one in the morning. "Daddy," she repeated, but Buddy wasn't listening to her, too busy ranting about how Tim had just left him in the lurch with no bartender, he was having like a mid-twenties crisis moment or something, and Billy Riggins was panicking and wanted to send the national guard after his brother to bring him back to Dillon. He thought Tim might get in trouble again or lose it or piss off the wrong person with the chip on his shoulder.

She closed her eyes, listening to her father for a moment before she hissed, loudly. "Daddy!"

Buddy finally paused. "Yes?"

"Daddy, Tim is upset about something, I don't know…I'm very confused, I'm trying to finish my exams this week, and then it will be winter break. I don't know if I am going to come back to Dillon or what is happening with Tim, but clearly something and I just don't…" She sighed, closing her eyes tight. It was what she didn't want to say out loud, but she had to. "I feel like he needs someone right now."

"And you're that someone?" Buddy asked. He chuckled. "Lyla, baby, I don't want you to be that person, tell him to come home. You can do that."

"I can do that," she agreed. "But Daddy I don't want to do that right now. I want to know more about what's going…"

"Tim Riggins is not your concern anymore Lyla. Leave it to us in Dillon…"

"To what?" she snapped, sitting up farther against the headboard. She raked her hand through her hair; the knot she'd tied her hair into on top of her head fell loose, strands blowing into her face from the cracked window beside her bed. She leaned forward, holding the phone to her ear and shut the window. "To what Daddy? The experts? The babysitters? Tim is twenty-four years old, if he needs a babysitter than maybe he needs to be in a home or something. He's fine, if he wants to run off, let him run off."

"Tyra Collette is very worried about him Lyla, she's in town still and her mother is going on about it…"

"I don't care about Tyra," Lyla snapped. That was pretty much the most truth she'd said this entire conversation with her father. She laughed, her voice cold. "If Tim cared about Tyra as much as she seems to care for him, he wouldn't have run off without telling her." Maybe Tyra could think about that for a few seconds. "He's a grown man, Daddy. He's not staying forever either, don't worry about that." Which she knew he did. Worried about her becoming another Riggins wife, coming home and popping out babies before she had a chance to do anything she wanted to do.

Don't worry about me Daddy. My irons are in the fire, I've got my plans, and I'm sticking to them, damn Tim Riggins to hell if I have to in order to get what I want. This is about me now. I'm doing this for me right now. Lyla glanced at the clock on her bedside. "It's one in the morning Daddy. I have an exam tomorrow."

"Okay, I just…Lyla be careful," Buddy warned. He sighed hard. "Tim is…is not the one you used to know."

That kind of scared her for a second, before she brushed it aside. Tim wasn't a murderer or anything. He might be different, but she wasn't going to fear him in anyway. She frowned slightly, wondering something that just now occurred to her. "Hey Daddy...how did Tim know where I live? I never told him."

Buddy paused. "Um...he must have gotten it from my office." He chuckled, stammering. "What's it...what's it matter, he's there, right?"

"You told him," she sighed.

"I gave him your address in case of emergencies. Like if I had a heart problem or something or I got in a car accident, I didn't think he'd use it to go run away Lyla." Yeah, well, that made sense to her. She said goodbye and that she loved him, disconnected, and set the phone back on her nightstand, falling back to the pillows. Great, she thought a second later, rolling her eyes and swinging her feet to the floor. Now she wanted a drink. She got up, walking quietly out of her room and down the staircase, tip-toeing into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim asleep on the couch, but…something was…she frowned, approaching him. He was shaking. His shoulders were trembling and he looked like he was shaking…did he realize that?

Lyla set the glass down on the coffee table, stepping a little closer to him. She was a student of the body right now. Sometimes in sleep, nerves would get over stimulated during REM cycles. Other times muscles were loosening, growing less tense. But this was not either of those things, she realized, when he started to fight, twisting in what appeared to be agony.

"No," he began to mutter. "No…"

Panic attack. Nightmare. Call it what you wanted, but he needed to wake up, she thought. She tucked her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. This was going to hurt for both of them, she thought, closing her eyes tightly and slammed her hands onto his shoulders. He pushed her back, yelling in his sleep as he came awake, knocking her down onto the floor, both of them rolling for a second before he realized what was happening, his chest rising and falling and eyes wide, staring down at her. Lyla stared up, shaking. He wouldn't hurt her, she repeated to herself, over and over again in her mind. Tim blinked a few times, falling backwards against the couch, twisted in the blankets and pillows.

Lyla sat up quickly beside him, her hands going to his shoulders. He dropped his hand from his forehead, still breathing deeply. He was cold and clammy. "Come here," she murmured, reaching for him and pulling him into her arms, regardless of whether or not it was appropriate for both of them. He tried to push her away, but she held firm, running her hand over his back, soothing him as he held her, but still said nothing. She closed her eyes, murmuring that it would be all right and it was just a bad dream.

For almost thirty minutes, she held him, until he pulled away, getting up and tossing the blankets onto the couch. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"I won't ask you what it was about," she said, getting to her feet. She realized that in the commotion of waking him up, she'd knocked her water onto the coffee table. Damn. Lyla retrieved some towels, wiping it up while Tim folded the blankets. "What are you doing?" she asked, when she saw him tug on his jeans. She dropped the towels onto the washer, hidden in a closet door in the kitchen. "Tim?"

"I'm going."

What? Lyla frowned. "Why?"

"I can't stay here with you. This was a mistake."

"Tim, it was just a nightmare, you're fine." She'd never known him to have nightmares before. Maybe he did, but she never woke up from them. Never saw him shake like that or talk in his sleep. Between the two of them, the long running joke was that she was the sleep talker, kicker, and snorer. Tim was usually like a board. He lay flat and didn't move the entire night. Lyla walked to the front door, stopping him from leaving. He didn't even have a shirt on. "Tim, no."

"Yes."

No, now I want to know why you're here. I want to know everything. Lyla pushed him away from the door, dropping his backpack to the floor next to hers. She turned him around. "Come upstairs."

"Garrity…"

"I'm not saying that this is going to happen the whole week, but…" Lyla quietly closed her door behind her, gesturing to her bed. "Lay down."

"In your bed?" he asked, incredulous. He laughed. "I don't think so. You said…"

"I said I'm not sleeping with you as in I'm not having sex with you," Lyla said, bluntly. She walked over to her bed, crawling in and patted beside her, hitting her head against the pillows again. "Just go to sleep Tim. Trust me."

A few minutes later, he crawled in beside her, lying back and staring at the ceiling. Lyla pulled the covers over her shoulders, reaching her hand to rest against his heart, listening to its fast beat against her palm. She kept her eyes closed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." She lay still for a second and then removed her hand, satisfied when his heart rate began to slow a bit. She folded her arms beneath her pillow, turning her back to him and closed her eyes, listening to him breathing for a few seconds. He was still awake. She sighed, whispering. "What do you want to ask me Tim?"

He didn't say anything. Not for awhile. Okay, fine, she thought, closing her eyes a little tighter, trying to drift off to sleep; she had exams and papers and other things that were not going to go by the wayside just because he was here. Until she was about to drift away, she heard him ask. "Why were you so angry this morning? You like...lost it. It was weird."

I lost it because...Lyla sighed, opening her eyes. She stared at her wall; kept her back to him. She ran her tongue over her teeth, shrugging and whispering. "I was angry at you. You did what I didn't want you to do. You...you turned into what people thought you would become, someone I never wanted you to be. Someone I know you're not. It hurt me. It made me mad. I'd put it out of my mind and you were standing there and I wanted to hit you because I wanted you to be someone. You didn't. You went to jail and I went to Nashville." She sighed, whispering. "But I'm better now."

"Are you really?"

"Yes." I think I am. Maybe not, we'll see how this week goes, because you are gone. Seven days. Then it's back to Texas for you. Lyla was going to keep that promise to herself. She sighed, whispering. "Now go to sleep, I have an exam in the morning." She settled back into her pillow again, the room plunging into silence again.

Until a few seconds later, Tim whispered and she could hear him smiling. "Just don't kick me."

"Shut up," she mumbled, but was smiling herself. After a few minutes, she kicked him. This time though, Tim kicked back.


	4. One Step Over the Line

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews :) They are much appreciated.

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**Chapter 4: One Step Over The Line**

"I hate physiology so much," Lyla complained, closing the door to her house behind her. She dropped her bag onto the floor with a thud, grateful that that final exam was done with. Now she had to look forward to her final final exam, but it was in her dreaded neuroscience class. She should never have attended the career fair her sophomore year; she'd done the first year getting all her core and basic classes done, because she had no idea what her major would be. Until she went to the career fair, wandering around, and began speaking with an occupational therapist in the medical school booth.

Before she knew it, she'd been convinced to switch her major and to pursue occupational health therapy. Pediatrics, she'd decided to specialize in. Helping children with motor disabilities and disorders achieve independence. It suited her. She walked into the house, calling out. "Anyone home?"

"Ow!"

A bang soon followed the 'ow.' Damnit Tim, what are you doing, she wondered, going upstairs and finding him on the floor of her room, assembling the desk she'd had in a box in her closet. She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Your desk is a folding table."

"Because I didn't have time to put that one together." She'd had more than enough time, she just didn't want to deal with the Swedish furniture store instructions.

"So I'm putting it together," he said, throwing down what looked like the side of the desk. He dusted his hands, sighing. "Forget it." He looked up. "You're home."

"My exam is over. Have you seen Claire?"

"No." He got up from the floor, following her out of the room and into the living room again. "Your roommate doesn't like me."

Lyla shook her head, walking to a table between two armchairs at the side of the living room, where a dining table might have gone if the townhouse didn't belong to two college students. "No, she doesn't." I'm not going to get into why she doesn't, just that she's acting like a good friend. An annoyingly good friend. She opened the cupboard and began to remove things to make cupcakes.

They dropped into silence. She started pouring things together. Flour and sugar. Eggs and some vanilla. A little bit of brown sugar. She turned on the stove, setting her double broiler atop it and reached into the fridge, grabbing a package of melting chocolate, dumping it into the top and poured in a bit of heavy cream. Tim sat at the counter, watching her.

He wasn't good at sitting, not unless it was watching football and drinking a beer. If he had anything to drink today, it must have been outside the house or he was hiding it in his truck. Lyla really didn't care what he'd done that day. This was his little sojourn; she wasn't going to help him. She stirred the chocolate, tapping the spoon against the top of the double broiler and began to whisk things.

After a moment, she poured some of the chocolate into the mix, stirring quickly so the warm chocolate didn't cook the eggs. Tim nodded towards her, whispering. "How come you don't use measuring cups?"

Lyla glanced towards him, not stopping her quick whisking. "Because I know this recipe by heart. I've been making them since I was in junior high."

"For Street."

"Yes," she answered. She tucked her hair behind her ear again. I have to get it cut. An experiment with bangs and layers had been successful, but now that her hair was growing out, it was annoying her. Lyla finished whisking, taking a small spoon and sampling the batter. Perfect. She set the spoon down and began to pour the batter into the silver paper cups in the two tins she had set out before starting the recipe. Everything filled up perfectly. She used a spatula to finish it off, setting the bowl in front of him. "Go to town."

Tim reached his finger in, scraping up a little of the leftover batter, tasting it. He shrugged. "I don't like sweet stuff."

No, he didn't. He wasn't big on cakes, cookies, or ice cream. The way she'd gotten into Jason's heart was by baking him things before games. She'd learned at her mother's side, that you did whatever your husband wanted. You made him happy. Even if it meant sacrificing a part of yourself to make him happy. Then she'd learned the hard way that that just made you feel worse. Her mother had learned it too and had rejected it, in some way. Lyla still thought her absolute devotion to everything Kevin, her stepfather, liked was just a new way for her to pour herself into a guy, but…sometimes Lyla thought that that's just who her mother was inside and Kevin happened to meet everything she loved, so she tried not to judge. At least her mom was happy.

At least I'm happy, Lyla thought, setting the cupcakes into the oven. She took the leftover melted chocolate, pouring it into a bowl and began to whisk with a little bit more cream, until it was a thin ganache. Tim had taken a little bit more of the batter from the bowl, but pushed it aside. Lyla snuck some of the ganache, offering it to him. He shook his head. "Suit yourself," she said. She dusted off her hands, sticking the ganache in the fridge and began to clean up.

It was actually less awkward than she'd thought. She turned around at one point; he was still sitting at the counter, watching her. It could get unnerving. "What do you want?" she asked, scrubbing at one of the bowls to remove some of the chocolate. She sighed. "Stop looking at me Tim. What do you want?"

"I can't just sit here?" he asked.

"No, you can't."

Tim took a deep breath, his voice tight. As though it were hard for him to ask. Or if he was speaking from a script. "Why are you making cupcakes?"

"They're for my group."

"What group?" he asked, frowning when she walked away from the sink, drying her hands on a towel. She folded the towel, slipping it through a rung on the edge of the counter, against a cabinet door.

Lyla finished cleaning up, speaking softly. "My occupational therapy group. I'm in a double program; I'm getting my Bachelor's and my Master's at once. Part of it is a clinical program where I am actually working." She looked up again. He seemed really curious. "I'm going to be an occupational therapist."

Tim frowned slightly. He swallowed, looking back up. "What's that?"

"You remember when Jason was in the rehab center? Learning how to use his wheelchair?" She waited for him to nod slightly. Maybe he didn't remember. It didn't matter. "The occupational therapists were the ones working at the center to help Jason learn how to use his muscles and work with his chair. Learn how to use the devices and stuff with his hands…that's what I'm going to be. An occupational therapist, for children." She smiled, unable to stop herself when she spoke about her work. "Right now my group consists of children who are in some way…" She sighed, whispering. "A few of them are in some way mentally disabled, but I don't care for that term."

"What like retards?"

"No!" she shouted, glaring at him. He drew back, surprised. She snapped again. "Don't use that term, it's wrong. They are not retards. It's a cruel word to use. They're not even mentally disabled, they're perfectly capable and in some ways they are better at the world than even you and I and anyone else is." Lyla turned quickly, lowering the oven door to check her cupcakes. She reached up into the cupboard, removing a box of toothpicks so she could test them. She spoke, her hands shaking. "Sorry I snapped, but I'm very fond of them."

"I can tell." He waited a second. "Is that what all the stuff in your car is?"

"It's equipment, yes, but...my sophomore year I wanted something to do, so…" She turned around again, laughing. She rolled her eyes. "I became a certified massage therapist. So I became freelance. It beats waitressing or working in the admissions office." Lyla smiled at his surprised look again. "What? Can't see me actually working or something?"

Tim shook his head, chuckling. "No, I can't see you touching other people. You're not very…" He cocked his head, his eyes crinkling a little, but he didn't really smile. "You just never seemed like that." He smiled. "You're a do-gooder Garrity. I mean, you really are a do-gooder, but in a good way, I just…can't see you getting messy while doing good."

Yeah, well…Lyla shrugged again, whispering. "Things are different now Tim. I'm very different from…from before." She smiled. "For instance, the old Lyla wouldn't tell you that I think what you're doing is childish and stupid. If you have problems, you work through them. You don't run away, which by the way, you've never done before. At least not physically run off. The old Lyla," she continued, lifting her eyebrow, stepping towards him, watching his face fall slightly when he realized she was no longer being personable. "The old Lyla wouldn't have told you that you are nothing but an overgrown child who wasted his opportunities and will regret them one day. You clearly need help Tim, but you won't seek it."

It was harsh of her, but she had to be harsh. It was one of the only ways to get through Tim's thick skull; otherwise he'd think she was kidding. Lyla focused her eyes on his, not breaking his gaze. "If you came here expecting me to coddle you and make you feel better about what's happened to you, well you're wrong Tim. That is not who I am anymore and I don't want to be your nurse. I don't know what you did with Tyra, but it seems if you want that, you can go back to her and leave me to my life. A life I was quite enjoying until you came back into it."

Lyla let go of his hand, which she hadn't realized she'd picked up, dropping it down to his side and stormed off, tears flooding her vision. Holy crap. Her heart was burning. She rushed into the bathroom upstairs, slamming her hand against her chest. It was rising and falling rapidly. Oh my God, she thought. She'd never…ever…oh God.

I've never been so mean before! So direct! Not that she could remember, at least. She covered her hand with her mouth, sobbing. Oh my God. I'm sorry Tim, she thought, getting up from the floor and opening the door. He was standing on the other side, about to lift his hand to knock. He dropped it back to his side. "You're not the same Lyla," he whispered. He smiled a little. "But I still like you." He shrugged. "And you're right."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks. She wiped at them, whispering. "But Tim I told you…you can't come back here and expect me to be happy to see you."

"I'm not," he muttered. He pushed his hand through his hair. It stuck out every which direction. He shook his head again, his voice thick in his throat. "I just thought if I saw you…it might…nevermind." He walked away, going back downstairs.

Lyla closed her eyes, leaning against the door. Thought what, Tim? That I would fall into your arms and beg you to stay? Forgive you for everything? She licked her lips, waiting a moment and went back downstairs. She was getting a workout today, constantly going up and down. "Tim, wait…"

"Look I'll go, okay?" he said. He reached for his jacket, slipping it on. He smiled sadly. "It was stupid for me to come."

"Tim." She looked over her shoulder, the oven going off. "Hang on, wait, just…just don't go yet." She ran to the kitchen, removed the cupcakes, and heard the door close the same time the oven shut. Damn Tim. Lyla turned, running back outside and down the walkway to the street. "Tim, no! Don't go!" She climbed up into the truck, since he was already inside. She slammed the door, turning in the seat and staring at him.

Tim frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I'm telling you not to go, look, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I've been so nasty, but you needed to hear it," she laughed. She wiped her hands through her hair, ignoring the tears that were threatening to start coming back. Why did he always make her cry? "Tim, please just tell me what you are doing in Nashville. Just tell me and maybe I can…"

"You just said you don't want to help me," he whispered.

Not…nevermind. She covered her mouth with her hand, dropping it to her knees, which were on the front seat, drawn beneath her lap. "I didn't…" She closed her eyes, whispering. "I didn't mean it like I won't…won't be there for you, but…" She sighed, wiping at her eyes. The tears were coming. "Tim you have no idea," she began. She swallowed, closing her eyes again. She sobbed. "You have no idea how hard it was for me…for all of it. For just being with you. Just falling in love with you. You've been so good for me but…"

But you've been so bad too she wanted to say. It wasn't like that though. Lyla reached for him, her arms going around his neck and she whispered into his ear. "You didn't…you didn't knowingly hurt me Tim. I just realized what I wanted for you wasn't what you wanted for yourself and I'm sorry for that, but…I didn't want to go separate ways with you." She wiped at her eyes, whispering. "Do you think I wanted to get on that bus and realize that I wasn't going to marry you and have kids with you? Maybe that was a stupid fantasy I had at one point, maybe we were never supposed to be like that, but I loved you and you loved me and it felt so damn good to be with you. But it wasn't going to ever be that way so…so I moved on and you went your way and now you're back and…and it hurts again." She pushed her hand into her chest. "I told you before, you hurt me when you went to jail, because…" She laughed. "Tim you made me feel so stupid and I know you didn't mean to and it's wrong of me to hold that against you, but…I felt like such an idiot! An idiot for ever wanting more for you for ever hoping you would get a college degree and a job and…and you could stay in Dillon for the rest of your life but at least you would have accomplished something!"

Tim turned, his knee banging into the steering wheel. He seemed livid. Good, she thought. "You know Lyla, your idea of accomplishment isn't the same as mine. Newsflash, I told you I didn't want to go to college! I told you and I told you and you didn't listen! So I didn't go because maybe for once I was doing what I wanted to do!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

She stared at him for a second, her chest rising and falling. He was still fuming silently, his eyes burning hot. She looked down at her hands. "You can't go yet," she said. Something is…is dark and broken inside of you. Lyla smoothed her hand over his beard, stroking it for a second. He was so broken, she thought. His eyes were ringed with dark circles. It had been two years, she thought. Two years since he got out of prison and he seemed like he was still suffering. "You can't go yet," she said. She licked her lips, shaking her head. "You'll make it worse."

"I'll make it worse for you, you mean."

"I'll be okay." She swallowed hard, nodding. It would be tough, but she'd toughed out worse. She gestured for him to come with her, climbing out of the truck. He closed the door and walked with her back to the house. "Tim, you wouldn't have gone, if only because you left your stuff," she said, pointing to the bag by the front door.

He chuckled. "Guess so."

"Eat a cupcake."

"I don't like…"

"Just try it. Chocolate has proven scientific remedies. Feeling better is one of them." Lyla removed a cupcake, swiped it with a spatula of ganache and passed it towards him. His fingertips brushed hers and she felt a shiver down her spine. She watched his face as he delicately bit into the cupcake, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Good?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's okay."

"Good." She smiled, removing another cupcake, beginning to decorate them all with ganache. He barely finished the cupcake, picking at it until it was mostly crumbs. At least she tried. "You know you do need to eat more." An image of him shirtless from the night before flashed in her mind. She'd seen more ribs on him than she had her whole life. His skin was positively hanging on him.

"I'm not hungry," Tim answered. He pushed the cupcake wrapper aside. He folded his arms on the counter, watching her for a moment. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "I got back together with Tyra for like…five minutes, but…she left. Left this past Thanksgiving…we were kind of just…" He rolled his eyes. "Whatever the kids are calling it these days, but…I think I pushed too hard. She said she couldn't be around me anymore. That it was too hard for her, so she didn't want to be like that anymore. She didn't want to hurt me, but that she just wanted to stay friends, but she had to focus on herself or something."

That's about as much as I am going to get out of him today, Lyla thought. She nodded, whispering. "I'm sorry for that."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he breathed. Lyla felt his gaze on hers, boring into her skull. She lifted her head, staring straight at him. He was serious. No joking, no kidding. His eyes fixated on her. His hand darted out and she gasped, surprised at the movement. He squeezed hers tight, clenching over her fingers. It almost hurt. She lifted her gaze from their hands, returning to him again. "I'm really, really sorry," he said. He swallowed hard. "I told you…I just didn't want to do something that wasn't me."

I know. I can understand that, but…Lyla nodded quickly. "Okay."

"College wasn't me, Lyla. I'm not college. I just…I'm Dillon," he said. Stressed the word 'Dillon' like it was his entire being. Maybe it was.

Lyla squeezed his hand back. "Then Tim why aren't you in Dillon?"

The question hung between them, unanswered. He got up after a moment and went to the living room, turning on the television. After another moment, she heard the sound of some war movie, gunfire and bombs exploding. It was a legitimate question. She wanted an answer.

Tyra leaving him certainly wasn't an answer, because he'd never been invested in her. Lyla felt a little selfish for thinking it, but he would have been more broken up had she left him, not Tyra. This was…it was tied into something else. Something far deeper than feelings for Tyra Collette, whatever they might be after all this time. She finished the cupcakes, put them in their holder, and set them aside for tomorrow. "Claire doesn't come home for another few hours. She might even go to the library for the rest of the night," Lyla said, sitting beside him. She crossed her legs, whispering. "What are we watching?"

"Some movie."

"Okay. I have to study." Lyla got up, collecting her neuroscience book. But rather than going upstairs, she sat back down beside him, looking over the top of the book. He was still watching the TV. About an hour later, she looked up and he was asleep. She turned off the television, set her book aside, and curled up beside him, reaching carefully to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. "What happened to you Tim," she murmured, her hand falling to his shoulder. He didn't move in his sleep. He was barely even breathing. She sighed, repeating the question. "What happened?"


	5. A Little Bit Beyond

**A/N:** Posting a little earlier today because I'm not going to have time this weekend. Enjoy a double helping of fic.

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**Chapter 5: A Little Bit Beyond**

"Tim." Lyla stopped in her tracks outside of the neuroscience building, surprised to see him sitting on a bench, holding two Starbucks cups in his hands. He stood, silently passing her one of the cups. The aroma wafted up to her nose and she sighed in pleasure.

This was just what she needed after that grueling test. She took a sip, surprised that he'd gotten her order right. He smiled; again, didn't meet his eyes, which she found upset her. "Double shot non-fat latte right? Sugar-free caramel?"

"Yeah," she laughed. She sipped again. It was perfect. Exactly what she wanted. "How'd you know?"

"I'm not so oblivious Lyla," he mumbled, walking away from her. He glanced over his shoulder. "I remember some things."

Ouch, sorry, she thought. Of course he'd take that as a jab that he didn't remember things about her. Or that she was implying he was selfish. She sighed, chasing up to him. "I'm sorry," she apologized, looking up at him. "It was very sweet of you to remember, thank you, but…" She frowned. "How did you know where I was?"

"Your schedule. I thought I'd…I don't know. Beats sitting around the house," he said. He sipped his drink, which she knew wasn't coffee. She could smell the tea. It was a secret he'd kept from some of his football buddies; he hated caffeine. Said it made his head feel weird, which she always thought was funny because he sure didn't mind poisoning his body with alcohol and letting that numb his mind. You'd think that would make his head feel weird.

Lyla nodded to the cup. "You got mine right, let's see if I have yours right after all this time."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She stopped, pointing to the cup, screwing up her nose as though she were thinking really hard. "Um…Earl Grey…" She trailed off, trying to remember how he drank it. She smiled wide. Got it. "Earl grey with one honey packet and three lemon ones." He stared down at her. After a second, he offered her the cup. She took it, sipped, and made a face. "Right on the money," she gasped, getting a hit of honey on her tongue. She grinned. "See Tim? You didn't change much."

Uh-oh. Probably not an avenue to joke around. His face immediately fell. He swallowed, looking over her head at the campus. It was very beautiful, part of the reason why she wanted to come here so badly. "Yeah, well…some stuff does."

"Yes," she said. She continued. If they were going to be around this avenue, she might as well continued down it. It had been four days since he arrived on her doorstep. He'd only tried to leave the two times, but now he seemed content to just…stay here. Although she knew he'd had another nightmare. She'd woken up this morning to find him curled up on the floor of her bedroom. Like a little kid going into their parents' room after they had a bad dream. Lyla glanced up at him again. "You have changed. You're very different. Broken. Sad."

"I was in jail for a year," he mumbled.

"You've been out for two." She stopped in front of a bench on the quad, taking a seat. He remained standing. She slung her bag down to the ground and crossed her legs, still looking up at him, her words carefully chosen so as not to spook him. "You must have really loved Tyra if her leaving made you this upset." She licked her lips. "Upset to come out here and see me at least." She sighed hard, her eyes closing. "Tim I told you that this is very, very hard for me with you here. If you came out here for something other than my advice, I don't know what to say. I can only help if you tell me and even then I don't know if I want to help, so…so why don't you just tell me what you expected by coming here."

This is going to be like getting blood from a stone, she thought, following him as he sat down beside her, his movements slow, almost creaky, as though it was taking him a lot of effort. It very well might have. He'd aged considerably since the last time she saw him. Tim leaned back, his neck curving against the top of the bench and his feet stretching out in front of him. The bench sat beneath a tree, on the quad. People walked to and fro around them, but it was muted enough that they could talk without having to worry about people overhearing them.

He sipped his tea, holding it in his hands, warming them. It was rather chilly. "I didn't go to jail because I did something," he mumbled. He closed his eyes. Lyla frowned. What was that supposed to mean? He opened them, sighing hard, his face twisted in agony, staring at her. "Get what I'm saying Lyla? Think. Just think for five seconds…you know me Garrity…you really, really know me, more than almost anyone…" His forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. "You know me…more than Tyra even thinks she does, I know you do so just…just think." He was practically begging her. "Think for five seconds and…and would I really do something like that?"

"I don't know," she automatically answered. She laughed. "I don't know what to believe Tim. I thought I knew you, I thought I…I thought that I knew what you might want for yourself…thought I knew you well enough to know what you wanted out of life, but…but I guess I never…" She sighed, sad, resigning herself to it. "Never did."

That wasn't the answer. Tim sat up, leaning into her, reaching for her hand, squeezing hard. She tried to remove it from his grasp, but he squeezed harder. She bit her lower lip, turning her face towards his, her forehead wrinkled, trying not to cry. "Lyla, I don't…I'm an idiot, okay? I'm not smart like you. I did some really, really stupid things growing up and hell, you were with me for most of them, don't look at me like that." He even smiled a little. "You knew me. You knew what you were getting into and…and I did stupid crap. I flipped a house with Billy, I let him talk me into helping him steal copper wire…we stole from meth addicts for God's sakes, but even I know that stripping cars is against the law…just…it was Billy's business and…and Billy's deal and…" He sighed, turning away from her, taking another long pull of his tea. He swallowed visibly, whispering. "Forget it."

Billy's business. Billy's deal. Oh…Lyla's eyes widened. She took a deep breath, whispering. "Billy had a baby…didn't he? Mindy was pregnant when I left. Right around the time you went to jail?"

"Stevie was born…during the whole…whole thing, yes."

Holy shit. I can't believe…Lyla set her coffee down on the arm of the bench, reaching to push her hands over her face and through her hair. It knocked the topknot down, falling sideways on top of her head. She felt tired. "Tim, please tell me…" She laughed. Otherwise she'd burst into tears. "You let me say those things about you…but you didn't do it. Oh my God."

"It was true," he whispered. "What you said about me."

"No Tim!" God, you are such a martyr! Lyla grabbed his hand again, squeezing. She glanced at him again. He had that sad, pitying look on his face. "Tim, why didn't you say anything? You went to prison for Billy, didn't you? You didn't do a thing and you…you did it…oh I'm an idiot!"

"Aw, no, don't say that. No you're not an idiot."

"Yes I am! I shouldn't have…" Lyla grabbed her bag and her coffee, storming away from him. She was so angry with herself for doubting him. Never in her life was she the doubter. She always believed in him. Always believed the best in him, no matter what she knew and what people told her. She pushed her fingertips into her forehead. This was giving her a headache.

Tim caught up to her, pushing her off the path and onto the grass. "Lyla," he whispered. He reached and pressed his hands onto her shoulders. She looked up, reluctantly. He was dead serious now. "Lyla look, you can't say anything…"

"Why not?" she snapped. She wanted to smack him. "You have been living your life in misery Tim, because of your stupid, good for nothing…" I'm going to kill him myself. She never trusted Billy. Maybe he had helped Tim over the years, but he had a shitty way of showing it. She always disliked Billy, she only ever put up with him because Tim was hopelessly devoted to him and as much as she disliked him, Billy loved Tim desperately. Even he'd wanted something more for him and had to resign himself to the fact that Tim didn't want anything more than what he already had.

Oh but that didn't matter. She was so mad! I'm going to kill him, she thought again. She turned away from Tim, her mind on autopilot, even though she didn't know what she planned on doing. Calling Billy and telling him a piece of her mind, maybe.

"No! Garrity! Stop!" Tim shook his head, holding his hands up, trying to calm her down. Lyla glared at him. "It's not Billy…I mean, it is…but…it was my idea, Lyla. My idea, I did it to myself…"

"Because of Billy!"

"Yes, because of Billy, okay?" Tim closed his eyes, pressing his palms up into his forehead. He dropped them down to his side. "Garrity I didn't tell you to make you run off and try to right wrongs, okay? I told you because it…it's part of why I'm here, alright?" He sighed hard, shaking his head. "Look I thought it was easier with him but it's not. We built the house together and I thought I'd forgiven him, hell maybe I have, but then Tyra left and…" He dropped his hand from his head again. "Look I was going…insane and…and I had to get out of there. I was trapped there for two years, I couldn't leave and I guess the minute I could…you have no idea."

Lyla quirked her lip upwards. "I think I have some idea about…things getting tough, Tim," she murmured. She arched an eyebrow. "You think the only reason I came to Vanderbilt was because it's a good school? It's not the only reason. It's a three-day drive from Dillon, that's part of the reason." She looked at her feet and back up to him again. She knew why he'd come. "Overpowering, huh? All those…feelings?"

"I had to get away," Tim mumbled. He closed his eyes. "Dillon's home. It's always home, but…but some bad…" He hesitated, whispering. "Some bad stuff has been happening and it just…" He sighed again, looking at her, smiling sadly. "I had to get away for a bit. I didn't want it to ruin Dillon. Got in my truck and before I knew it I was in Dallas and just…started thinking of who I wanted to see, so…so I came…I had your address from your dad, for emergencies."

She smiled quickly. "Wasn't an emergency."

"Maybe it was," he chuckled. He laughed, looking up at the sky, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "So…I came here."

To the one person you thought would be able to help you. I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment, Lyla thought. She turned around, walking slowly away. Tim walked beside her. "You and Tyra, huh?" she asked, not looking at him. Her grip tightened around her cup of coffee. Why are you asking this Lyla? It's just going to make you angry. "I know we've briefly talked about it, but…I guess I just never thought you'd go back there. Or that she'd let you."

"I guess I didn't either. But you were right earlier about her…I just kind of…wanted someone. She came around at the right time, I was…about a year from moving to Alaska." He smiled when she shot him an incredulous look. Alaska!? "Yeah, that was kind of her reaction too." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Convinced me it would probably be best to stay…build my house, so…so Billy and I built the house. Together. But every time…" A rattling breath escaped him. "Every time I'm around him, I just…I can't let it go. I think I'm happy for a minute and he's my brother and we're okay, but then a few days later, I remember…" He closed his eyes, whispering. "I want to, believe me, I want to let it go, but I can't Lyla."

"It's a hard thing to forgive," Lyla said. She didn't think she could ever forgive someone who would do something like that to her. Put her in that position. Hell, it took almost a year for her to truly forgive her father for losing all her college money, for being as selfish as he was.

"I do forgive him, but…" Tim shook his head again. He shoved is hands deeper into his pockets. "It's hard to explain…I forgive him for putting me there, but I know it was also my idea and…and Stevie had his dad, you know? At least he had his dad, but sometimes Billy just…even to this day he does stupid shit and I just wonder if he learned his lesson." He sighed, chuckling. "Cause' I sure as hell did."

I think you've done enough for today. Lyla finished her coffee, dropping the cup into a trashcan as they walked around the campus. She smiled warmly, changing the subject abruptly. "I love college. I'm going to miss it when it's over."

"But you get a job."

"I do, I get to start my more hands on studies and my certifications and…it's going to be hard, but…I really can't wait," Lyla giggled. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking back up at him, her eyes crinkling up. "You know, I think…Tim I don't know what you want me to do, I've already told you that. I know you want to get away, but I already said that this is hard for me too, so…so I don't know how long you want to stay or how long I can let you stay, but…" She smiled. "Come with me tomorrow to my class."

Tim frowned. "Your class?"

"I think it might be good for you."

He shook his head. "I guess…sure."

"Good." Lyla smiled, warmer again. Now that he'd told her a little bit of how he was feeling, she felt…felt less hostile towards him. It still wasn't the Tim she knew, but at least she was comforted in knowing that…part of him was still inside this broken shell. She didn't plan on drawing it out. That wasn't her job. None of this was her job. He had to let that old part of him come out himself. She looped her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder, like old times. They were friends.

Tim rested his head against hers, whispering. "Thanks for being here."

She swallowed hard, her voice soft. "You're welcome."


	6. Far Beyond

**A/N:**Found some time to edit and post the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews and enjoy! BTW, thought I'd drop a teaser that the first half of the fic is set in Nashville and well, there might be an appearance by Tami's doppelganger in chapter 12 ;) Enjoy!

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**Chapter 6: Far Beyond**

Lyla stepped out of her bedroom, smiling at Tim's surprised look as he stepped out of the bathroom. She held her hands out. "What?" she laughed. "You're looking at me funny."

Tim shook his head, chuckling. He shrugged into his button-down plaid shirt, the muscles of his chest lifting up over his bones. Lyla glanced down at his stomach; it was still as flat and toned as ever, but his ribs were more pronounced. She had to keep him eating; he'd barely finished his hamburger at dinner last night and for breakfast this morning he had half an orange, throwing the rest away. "You just look…really different."

"I'm wearing scrubs," she said, looking down at her navy scrub pants and the t-shirt she wore with Vanderbilt Medical Center emblazoned on the left breast, with the school's seal. She had on her most comfortable shoes, a pair of Danskos with patterns of horses on them, which she'd received as a Christmas gift the year before from Buddy. There was no way her piddly work-study money would pay for these in her budget. She reached over to him, pinching at one of his ribs. He tucked in, shooting her an annoyed look, but his lip curved into a smile. "You're too skinny."

"Never been told that before."

"You need to eat more," she said, smiling up at him again. "This weekend we should go to Memphis. I'll stuff you with barbeque."

His nose wrinkled, but he smiled. This time it was slightly wider than it had been in the now five days since he'd arrived. "You eat barbeque? Last I remember you said pigs were too cute to be eaten, but cows were okay."

"I have been known to eat barbeque," she laughed. She nodded towards the stairs. "I'll meet you downstairs. Get the cupcakes from the kitchen, I don't want to forget them." She waited until he was gone, after he'd done a little curtsy, promising that he would listen to her, because she'd asked so nicely, and went into the bathroom, reaching into her makeup box on a shelf above the toilet.

When she glanced in the mirror, she jumped, smearing lip gloss from her lip to her cheek. "Damnit," she cursed, glaring at Claire in the mirror. "What are you doing standing there?"

"I heard you guys flirting," Claire said, accusingly.

Lyla rolled her eyes; Claire had been impossible, when she'd actually been in the house. She'd been studying so damn hard that she came back at night and left before anyone woke up, choosing the library basement for her study zone. "I don't know what you're talking about, we're not flirting."

"That looked like flirting to me. You were tickling him."

"I was pointing out how skinny he is."

"He's not skinny." Claire rolled her eyes. "He's kind of hot actually, but he's not skinny."

Lyla arched an eyebrow. "If I had a photo of him in high school I'd show it to you. He's practically anorexic. He used to be built. Not big or heavy, but…well, big and lean and stuff," she tried to explain. Tim had always seemed very…hard to her. She'd walked right into him in high school once and bounced off his back. He'd barely moved a step.

Claire sighed, stepping further into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, keeping her hand on the knob, her other hand going to her hip. She seemed genuinely concerned; Lyla was very glad to have such a good, concerned friend, but right now was just not the time for Claire's antics. She pursed her lips, waiting a moment. While she waited, Lyla put on lip-gloss and some powder going about her morning routine. Finally, Claire sighed. "Lyla, do you realize why you don't have pictures of him from high school?"

I don't want to answer that. Lyla pressed her lips together, smoothing out her lip-gloss. "Doesn't matter Claire."

"Yes, it does." Claire laughed. "The reason you don't have pictures, let me remind you, is because you came back from a long weekend visit and you took all of them, put them in an envelope and sent them back home. I recognize him from that one you had, you guys and some guy in a wheelchair…"

"That's Jason, he's Tim's best friend." Maybe he wasn't anymore. Lyla hadn't spoken to Jason in years. Which was sad, now that she thought about it, glancing at her reflection in the mirror again. She thought they could stay friends forever. Guess it really wasn't high school anymore. She turned around, trying to reach for the door, but Claire continued to block it. "Come on Claire," she warned.

"No."

"Claire!"

It didn't matter, Claire held firm. "Lyla, he's sleeping in your bed."

"He has nightmares!"

"And he sleeps in your bed to get rid of them? That's emotionally twisted, Lyla. He's going to hurt you again and I just don't want to pick up the pieces!"

"No one says you have to Claire and by the way, stop acting like I was catatonic or something, we ended on good terms. Sad terms, but good ones!" she exclaimed. She laughed again. This was ridiculous. She crossed her arms tight over her chest. Claire was being silly; it was really nice of her to care so much, because Lyla was sure that she would do the same for her best friend, but this was starting to get ridiculous. "Listen Claire, your concern is really nice and I love you so much for being so supportive of me, but…" Lyla couldn't explain it to people who didn't know Tim before. She sighed, whispering. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. We ended because we just are on different paths and…"

Claire interrupted her, whispering. "Lyla what if your path crosses his again? What if yours goes miles and miles away from his, but it twists and winds its way back until it's the same one?" She shrugged. "Are you going to take it? Or are you going to stop off and go somewhere else?"

I…I don't know, Lyla thought, her words faltering. She knew what she was going to say. She was going to tell Claire that the two of them were friends now, that they were over that initial awkwardness, Tim knew it would never be anything greater than what it was now…which was friendship. Only now she didn't know what to say. It was the answer Claire was expecting, because her smile fell and she shook her head, whispering. "I knew it. You'd take it."

Lyla didn't think that was true. It didn't matter, because their paths were not going to cross like that. It just wasn't going to make sense. She planned on going into her chosen career path, getting another degree from another very good school, and pursuing her desire to help as many children as she physically was able. That didn't lend itself to Dillon…not really, I mean…I could work at the rehab center Jason went to…NO!

No, no, no, no, no! That was not what she wanted to do. That was not her plan. Tim was not going to derail her desires. She was going to finish her program at Vanderbilt, which was only one more semester and she was going to get her Bachelor's and her Master's and she had already applied to several graduate schools, which she still had to hear back from. Two were in Pennsylvania, one was in Boston, she'd also applied to USC, Ohio State, and NYU. And yes, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. She'd also applied to the University of Texas at Austin; because it had a decent program for her, not because it was four hours away from Dillon.

Lyla removed Claire's hand from the doorknob, whispering. "Thank you for your concern Claire, but really…I'm going to be fine."

"I don't know Lyla. You told me yourself that you do stupid things around some of the men in your life." She arched an eyebrow. "You said that you dated a Christian missionary guy for like six months because you thought it would make you a better person."

She smirked. "Did I tell you that one of the reasons I broke up with him was because he wouldn't sleep with me, Claire?" That wasn't necessarily the entire reason. It was a large part of it, yes, but mostly because he wouldn't share himself that way with her and she thought that was an important part of a relationship. Lyla reached back, quickly tying her hair into a topknot. She opened the door, ending the discussion. "I do stupid things with the men in my life, but this is not a man in my life. Not like that."

Claire shook her head, calling out. "I don't believe you! You can't keep lying to yourself!"

I don't care. Lyla jogged down the stairs, grabbing her coat and her bag, stepping outside, surprised to find Tim waiting on the stoop, the box of cupcakes beside him. She nudged him with her foot. "Hey, let's get going. We're going to be late."

"Should I drive with you?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun, I'll find stuff for you to do," she said, throwing her things into the back and climbing up into the front seat. She waited for him to fasten his seatbelt, which he did begrudgingly, and drove away.

Tim glanced sideways. "Are you and Claire fighting?"

"No," she blurted out.

"Then you were making out."

What!? She laughed, looking sideways. "What the hell was that?"

He smiled; it was getting closer to his eyes now, she noticed. "You were both in the bathroom acting all secretive. You're in college. I'm a red-blooded American guy."

"I'm going to let you in on a secret that will destroy your world Tim, but girls don't dance around in their panties and have pillow fights unless its in porn."

He grabbed at his chest. "You've ruined my view of the world!"

"Shut up," she laughed. She grinned. It was really, really good to see him smiling and joking. So she told him. The smile fell and he shrugged, saying nothing, glancing out the window. I hope I didn't cause a setback. Lyla drove out of her neighborhood and to the medical center, which was on the other side of campus. It was just easier to drive, especially with all the equipment she had to bring with her.

They parked in the student section of the parking garage, which was as far from the doors and elevators as was possible. Lyla slung her bag over her shoulder, while Tim brought the cupcakes. "Get that please," she said, pointing to another bag. He picked it up, almost dropping it. "Careful! It's got my weight balls in it."

"Your what?"

"I've developed some of my own programs, under my instructor's supervision of course, but I had to provide some of my own props for it. The kids like mine better than the hospital's anyway. Come on." Lyla led him through the garage, through the hospital, and parked him in a corner of the locker room while she stowed her stuff. "Come on," she instructed again.

They went into a large room, which was painted with bold, bright colors and had a myriad of machines, some that she knew Tim would probably recognize from visiting Jason in the rehab facility. Not that he visited him much, so maybe not, she thought, pointing to a counter. "Put the cupcakes there."

A door opened and a little boy wheeled himself in, grinning wide at her. "Lyla!"

Lyla spun, her eyes lighting up. "Andrew! Hey there! Look at you in your chair!" She rushed over to Andrew, giving him a quick hug and stepping back. He proudly held his arms up and flexed his muscles over his head, grinning, showing off a few new missing teeth. "Those are some big muscles, come here, let me see them…" She held up both her hands. "Push the right to my left and your left to my right…hard as you can…"

Andrew had had a stroke a few months before; it was a shock, because well, eight-year olds didn't have strokes. Turned out he had an undiagnosed clotting condition and a blood clot had formed, traveling to his head. It had been removed and he'd been treated quickly, but he could no longer walk, his left side pretty much left weak and paralyzed. Lyla watched his left hand as it pushed on hers; weak, but it was still enough. She smiled, her eyes crinkling. He giggled. "Did I do it right?"

"You certainly did, for that, you deserve a cupcake."

"Cupcake!" Andrew wheeled around her, smiling at Tim, who had been watching the entire thing from his position leaning against the counter by the door. "Who are you?" he asked.

"This is Tim," Lyla said, before Tim could say anything. She glanced down at Andrew, her hands on her hips. "Tim is a friend of mine from high school. He's from Texas, do you know how I know that he's from Texas?" Andrew shook his head, reaching for the cupcake she was passing him. Lyla grinned, glancing back at Tim. "He's wearing cowboy boots and when he talks, he sounds like he's out of an old Western."

Andrew looked at Tim's boots, which were cowboy boots, worn and dirty, the same ones he'd had the entire time she'd known him. "Really?" he asked, grinning.

Come on Tim, play along, she thought, looking up at him. Tim ran his tongue over his teeth, shrugging, straightening up slowly, as though he had a lankier frame than he really did. "Aw shucks Miss Lyla," he drawled, pouring a stereotypical Texas accent into his voice. He tapped his forehead. "Lost my hat and everything, you're making me blush."

She laughed, along with Andrew. Even Tim broke into a smile. "See?" she said, taking the wrapper of the cupcake from Andrew once he finished. "Okay Andrew, let's start some of your exercises. Are your parents going to be here?"

"Not yet," Andrew said. "They're working. Sarah, the nurse, said I could come in by myself. I'm getting good with my chair." He went over to one of the machines and Lyla began helping him, while a few more from her group session began to filter inside.

Her instructor, one of the head occupational therapists, stepped inside, glancing at Tim curiously before approaching her. "Hey Lyla, how are you today?" Yan asked her, glancing at Tim again. "Who is our visitor today?"

"Ah, Yan this is Tim Riggins, he's a friend of mine, I thought he might watch class today," Lyla said. She knew Yan wouldn't mind, he was more than happy to have people watch what they did. The kids were absolutely fascinated by the newcomer, asking him questions about Texas and wanting him to show them his cowboy boots and did he have a cowboy hat and a horse and a ranch like in the movies?

Tim didn't like having to put on a fake persona and he wasn't much for kids; he treated them like adults, which Lyla thought was perfectly fine, but which sometimes got him in trouble. She didn't want any black marks against her in the program, so hopefully he made sure when to hold his tongue and when to speak. But overall, he was okay with kids. Not that Lyla had seen him around them much, just Gracie Taylor. Who was a baby at the time.

She returned her attention to Yan, her instructor. "He's fine, he's visiting, I thought it would be alright, maybe even use him with some of the kids. He plays football," she said, her hands on her hips. She smiled quickly. "And one of his best friends is in a wheelchair. Incomplete C-4 paraplegic."

Yan nodded, frowning slightly. "That's a football injury, bent head."

"Yup."

"Interesting, these days you don't see much of those, they teach not to hit with the head down."

Most days they don't even hit before they're getting a penalty, Lyla thought, rolling her eyes at some of the new football rules. It was football; you were going to get hit. She cleared her throat. "I thought maybe today we could use the football. Work on some motor skills." She was thinking of Riley, one of the older kids, who was thirteen and broke her neck falling from the top of the pyramid. It had been hard to get through to Riley, but right now the teenager was fawning over Tim and asking him about his football days from her pink wheelchair.

Yan nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I'll be back here, observing, you know the drill."

Yes, I know the drill, believe me. Lyla was in an advanced program, as part of her Master's degree. She had only recently been allowed to do some of the exercises with the kids on her own, once their parents signed off. Which all the parents of the kids in this class had. She turned back to the class, clapping her hands. "All right guys, I know we usually all break out into our own thing, but today I thought we might do something a little different."

There were only five of them. Andrew, Riley, and three others, all who were in various stages of limited mobility or paralysis. Max, Isabella, and Evan. Only Max wasn't in a wheelchair. Isabella and Evan had various stages of speech and mental paralysis from their conditions.

Evan nudged her, looking up and writing on his board, as he couldn't speak since he'd been in a car accident and had damage to the speech portion of his brain. She glanced down, smiling at him. "Well Evan, we're going to use our visitor."

"How?" Isabella asked, turning her head slightly to look at Tim. She seemed to be warier of him than Riley. Who was still sitting beside him, smiling up, like they'd been friends forever.

Lyla tossed her bangs from her eyes, smirking at Tim, whose eyebrows had lifted to his forehead. "Do you guys know what a fullback does in football?" She pursed her lips. She reached over and grabbed a football from her bag, tossing it back and forth, her eyes still on Tim. "Well guys, a fullback gets to hit people. They protect the quarterback and the wide receivers and the running backs. So those guys can score. We are standing, guys…" She began to walk around them, still keeping her eyes on Tim. "One of the best fullbacks that Texas High School football has seen. He was All-American. He got to play with a bunch of other high school kids." She remembered that. After they lost State, he'd had a week to get his shoulder straight before they were driving across Texas to New Orleans, where the game had been played that year. "But you see, Tim hasn't played high school in a few years. He's been…" She smirked. "Otherwise occupied." Tim didn't look amused, but he kept silent. "So we're going to use him today."

She stopped, grinning at him. "Guys, fullback is an offense position. Then there's defense. They're the ones who have to keep the offense from scoring. So they keep Tim here from protecting the quarterback. Now…" She tossed the ball back and forth, lightly lobbing it to Andrew, who caught it in his arms. She smiled at his surprised look that he'd managed to catch it. "We'll practice catching and throwing later, right now I want you guys to be defense. Keep Tim from scoring."

Evan scribbled on his board. Lyla smiled at it. She clapped her hands again. "We're going to practice with using our muscles to push…we're going to push Tim."

A few minutes later, she was standing off, grinning wide, her eyes lighting up as Tim laughed; honestly laughed, as the five kids all giggled, pushing at him with their hands, feet and chairs, trying to knock him down and keep him from scoring.

Yan smiled. "They're happy," he said. He shook his head. "It never ceases to amaze me Lyla, how you make these kids happy to be doing exercises and practicing their motor skills and everything."

They're happy, she thought, still smiling. But Tim was happy too. It was an unintended consequence she was very happy to see.


	7. Too Close for Comfort

**A/N:**Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy :)

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**Chapter 7: Too Close for Comfort**

"That Andrew kid is pretty cool and so is that chick, the one in the pink wheelchair, what happened to her?" Tim asked, through a mouthful of pizza. He crossed his legs beneath him, watching her. "Well?"

Lyla counted the crusts on his plate. He was on slice number five. Tim never ate all the crusts, always leaving behind a thin crescent of dough or an end of one. She smiled, not saying anything, reaching for a piece on the coffee table, biting into it. After a moment of chewing, she swallowed, and spoke. "Well, Riley was doing a simple summer camp type of cheerleading move, but her foot slipped. She fell the wrong way and cracked her C-4. She's kind of like Jason; you saw her hands? How they're curled like his?"

Tim nodded quickly. "And Andrew?"

"Andrew had a stroke, he has a clotting problem. He's come lightyears from how he was when I first saw him earlier. He's speaking much better, his reading is improved, and so are his fine motor skills." When she met Andrew he could barely speak without slurring. All his cognitive abilities were adapting to his new body, so to speak, and she was so happy to help be a part of it. She went through, explaining all the injuries or conditions the children suffered. Some, like Isabelle, she explained, were undergoing updated rehabilitation. "She has cerebral palsy, a relatively severe form, which is why her speech is so compromised," Lyla said. "And sometimes, she has to come back in and relearn things. Your brain does something, it makes shortcuts, basically, but hers has problems with some of the shortcuts. So she needs to relearn."

"Shortcuts?" he asked.

Lyla threw a pen at him. "Sign your name."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

He shrugged, scribbling his name. "There."

Lyla nodded to it again. "Don't look. Sign your name. Talk to me. What's the weather like outside?"

"It's raining."

"Is it cold?" Tim shrugged, signing his name without looking and told her that yeah, it was cold and raining outside. She smiled, nodding to the napkin. "Look at your signature."

He glanced down, frowning. "Huh. It's like the same."

"Your brain has created a shortcut. It's natural. You do it without thinking. If you lose your cognitive memory, you might still know how to sign your name, because it's like muscle memory, it's physical," she said, smiling quickly, tapping her temple with her index finger. "Our brains are complex things. We only know like three percent of what the brain actually does."

Tim reached for another piece of pizza. "So you like those kids. You're good with them."

"I didn't think I would," she laughed. She bit her lower lip, whispering. "I was just…I was walking around freshman year for career day and started talking to the physical therapists and everything for the medical center…I thought it would be really interesting and then…well I hadn't made the decision so I was sitting in my advisor's office spring semester, trying to figure out what I should do. If I should go ahead and bite the bullet. It'd taken all the basics. I didn't know what I wanted to be. I thought maybe business, I have a head for it, I like it…" She bit her lip. Part of her wanted to say that she could have come back to Dillon, helped run Riggins' Rigs. That wouldn't have gone over well, she didn't want to cause a setback for him, not when he was smiling and laughing and hell, eating through an extra-large pizza piled high with every topping on the menu. "But then, my advisor asked me if I really wanted to do business or if maybe I was thinking about doing it for someone else."

Which she had been thinking. Part of her had been thinking that business would be good, because she could go wherever she wanted to go, but at the same time, she could return to Dillon to help her father run his businesses. Maybe help him turn a profit for the first time ever or come up with some way to help him pay back her uncle for the college money.

Business wouldn't be for her, it would be for someone else, she explained to Tim. "So you're a therapist," he concluded. He shrugged, whispering. "Why?"

Why? Lyla set down her crust, turning it over a few times on the plate. She looked up, smiling, her eyes shining. "I think of Jason. How scared he was and how helpless…how helpless I was and his parents…then the therapists would come in and they'd show him…he was so embarrassed so much of the time, but…they weren't bothered by anything and did all they could to ensure he wasn't embarrassed…they were the people who explained things and…well I thought I might like to do that. For other people and…" She laughed, biting her lip. "It's selfish. The feeling I get sometimes."

He leaned on the coffee table, finally pushing his plate away, six crusts piled on it. "You feel…selfish?" he asked. He quirked his lip up, whispering. "Wow…new one Garrity. You're selfish for wanting to help people?"

"Not selfish," she mumbled. She took their plates, piling them into the empty pizza box, lowering the lid and nudging it aside, her arms folding on the coffee table. They were on the floor, because they'd been watching TV and she didn't want to eat on the couch or at the table in the kitchen. Lyla propped her head up on her hand, her eyes meeting his. He was genuinely interested, listening to her. She shrugged her shoulder again. "I feel like I'm helping. Like I've finally got a purpose. It's all for me. It's what I want to do. Not because someone is telling me I should do it or because someone I love is pursuing the same thing…" She smiled again, whispering. "I don't know if you know this Tim but I tend to follow what others around me want me to be and…and need a push sometimes to do what I want, but…" She shook her head again, her voice dropping, no longer looking at him. "I do it for me."

Tim leaned back against the couch, his arm draped over his knee. He waited a second, lifting his eyes up. "Like leaving Dillon." Like leaving Dillon. Lyla nodded, not saying anything. She didn't know where this conversation could go. It could get ugly. It could get sad. She finally lifted her eyes. He was looking at his fingers, folding them up into his palm and then releasing.

She took a deep breath, whispering. "You're so different Tim, but I don't think it's all bad and don't let anyone tell you that it is. Billy or Mindy or Tyra…or anyone else." It changed him, but everything changed everyone. We are never the same people we were in school and if we are, she thought, shrugging slightly at her own thoughts. Then maybe that wasn't such a good thing. Changing was part of growing up.

Tim looked back down at his hand. He hesitated a second, not saying anything, but his mouth opened. He closed it, waited another moment and then looked up. He swallowed hard, his gaze focused on her. "I feel like everything was just…dark. I didn't know what to do. It was just…a mess. I never knew what I wanted, but what it was…that wasn't it. It was all screwed up…Billy had his kid and his wife and…and where did I fit you know? He was still doing stupid shit. Letting Becky waitress at the Landing Strip and…and wanting me to do whatever it was he wanted to do…not caring."

Lyla inched closer to him, her head propped on her hand again, listening. He sighed, his head hitting back against the couch, whispering up to the ceiling. "He just didn't care Garrity. I think that pissed me off the most. I was back and everything could go back to normal. It can't. It won't."

"You love him," she whispered. She shook her head. "That doesn't change Tim."

"I love my brother, but I can't look at him sometimes without wanting to…punch him or something," he mumbled. He bit his lower lip, whispering. "I'm better, believe me, I'm better, but…I put it all into my house. I built that damn house…Billy helped me and things were good, but then sometimes…"

She moved even closer, until she was right beside him, her hand on her head and her elbow on the couch cushion, her knees drawn beneath it. "Sometimes you just relive it again," she breathed.

He nodded, looking back at his hands. He was still flexing his right one, like it bothered him. Lyla reached for it, gently pulling it to her for inspection. There were some old scars, a couple of new ones. He shrugged, whispering. "I broke it a few months ago. I was finishing up some stuff on the house and…Billy…" he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Billy wasn't paying attention and dropped a brick on it."

Dumbass Billy, she agreed silently, holding his hand in hers loosely. She began to press her thumbs into the joints, speaking again. "So you finished your house," she murmured. That was one of the things, it seemed, which probably was a tipping point. A tipping point bringing him out here to her again. She sighed. "And Tyra left again." I don't want to talk about Tyra, but she was part of his life, so she supposed that she'd come up again in conversation. Somehow.

Tim smiled, brief. "Yeah, Tyra." He glanced sideways. "I'm not an idiot Lyla. I mean…I am…"

"You're not an idiot, I hate when people say that about you," she mumbled. It was demeaning. If you told someone something enough they'd begin to believe it. She pressed harder into bone stretching from the third knuckle of his pinkie to his wrist. He hissed in pain, but she just pressed a little deeper, breaking up the adhesion.

"Whatever, Garrity, but I'm not sometimes…I'm happy for her, you know? She's not ending up with the alcoholic high school football player who will puke his paycheck up every week," Tim mumbled. She let go of his hand, which he flexed again. "It was nice while it lasted. A bit of…it was just nice. It sucked when she left."

Probably reminded you what it was like to be alone again. Lyla closed her eyes; it was all nice and everything, but… "What do you want me to do Tim?" she murmured. Her eyes opened again. "I mean…I can't change things for you. I can't come back to Dillon to give you comfort. I can't bring Tyra back to you or make Billy see that he's an idiot, I mean if no one else has done that in thirty some years, I certainly can't."

Tim swallowed hard, shaking his head again. "I don't want you to do anything Garrity." He looked at his hand, frowning. "What did you do? That feels better."

She ignored the question. "Then Tim…" It all came back to why he was there again. Lyla closed her eyes tight. "You can't hide forever. It's not what you do; you've never done something like this before, okay? You don't really ever face your problems, but running from Dillon isn't what you'd do. You need to go back. Soon."

He looked at her again, his voice soft. "Can I please just stay a couple more days?"

He was so pitiful. Lyla sighed. She was planning on staying through Christmas break, at least, the last time she'd thought about her plans. Lyla bit her tongue. She shook her head, whispering. "No, we'll…" She sighed hard. "We'll drive back to Texas for Christmas. It's in two weeks. We'll leave on Thursday. That's…that's in five days, okay? That's the last day of semester. It's when break starts and I have to let my class know, or else they'll worry."

He frowned, shaking his head. "You haven't come back to Dillon since…"

"Since freshman year, I know." I wasn't planning on doing this. I let him do this again, damnit. Lyla swallowed again, getting up from the floor, taking the trash and carrying it into the kitchen. She heard him behind her. "Tim, just don't, okay?"

"I'm not making you go back to Dillon you know."

"I know, okay? I'm not going back for you, I'm going back because you need to go back and hell, I'll go with you. Free ride, yay!" Lyla threw the plates and paper towels in the trash, turning around, gasping when he appeared right behind her. He pinned her against the counter and she closed her eyes immediately, her voice firm, warning. "Tim. No."

"I'm not going to do anything." He reached his hands up, gently holding her face. When she opened her eyes, he brushed a tear away with his thumb. He seemed genuinely apologetic. "Lyla please. Don't do this…"

Once again I'm not doing it for you. I do need to go to Dillon, I have to talk to my father, and…this is just not about you this time, she thought, hoping she believed it. She reached up, touching her forehead to his, her hands pushing through his hair. She gripped at the strands, letting go after a moment and stepping aside, her fingers brushing over her lips. Don't do it, she thought, turning around, staring at him on the other side of the kitchen. She stepped away. "I'm going to go get a shower." He let go of her without a word.

Lyla went upstairs, closing the bathroom door behind her. She showered, dried off, and wrapped herself in a thick towel. She left the bathroom, shaking her hair out into a separate towel, glancing down at the living room; the light was on and the TV was going. She walked into her bedroom, picking up her phone, swiping her finger over it and seeing a text from Claire. She was staying with her boyfriend. 'Don't do anything stupid', Claire warned her. I'm not going to do anything stupid, she thought, turning around and hanging her towel on the back of her door. She gripped at the towel around her, looking down at her toes. She sighed, hanging that one up and putting on a pair of shorts and a long t-shirt. Her fingers folded over it, staring at the faded 33 on the front in blue marker. She let go of the hem, walking out of her bedroom and going back down into the living room. Tim was stretched out on the couch, his feet bare and his shirt partially unbuttoned. Riggins resort chic, she thought with a giggle. The sound forced his head up. He frowned. "That my shirt?"

"From like a million years ago." She walked over and sat beside him, drawing her knee beneath her. She sighed, pulling it out slightly and looking down at it. "It's so soft I couldn't throw it out. I sent back most of the stuff you even…looked at, touched…I didn't want a reminder of you with me after I came back. It was just easier that way."

Tim nodded. He smiled slightly, whispering. "I was kind of the same with you. After you left." He sighed. "I was terrified taking that job at Buddy's, but…he made sure we didn't cross."

"It wouldn't have been wrong if we did, I mean we're fine now," she chuckled, reaching her hand over to squeeze his tight. Their eyes met and he smiled. She returned the smile, letting go and climbing off the couch. "Good night Tim."

"Good night Lyla," he breathed. She turned around; she could feel him watching her as she went up to her room. After a second, she closed the door behind her, looking down at the lock.

Lyla flicked it, but then waited. She closed her eyes, releasing a breath again. She went to her bed and crawled beneath the covers, and turned off the light. She lay awake for what felt like an hour; it was five minutes when she glanced at her alarm clock. Shit, she cursed, climbing back out of bed, her mind made up. I'm not doing this for anyone but me, she thought, unlocking the door and flinging it open.

Tim stood on the other side.

She didn't say anything, grabbing him by his face and pulling him down against her, her mouth hot and open on his as he gripped at the worn t-shirt, whipping it up, his hands coursing on her skin. She gasped, breaking away just long enough for him to throw the shirt aside, and wrapped her back up into his arms. For a few seconds, she just let herself revel in feeling their skin touching, kissing him again. God, it felt so good, she thought, breaking away, her hands on his neck, swaying slightly. No, we can't.

"We can't," he whispered. He shook his head quickly. "I can't…"

"I know," she murmured. He lowered his lips to hers again, kissing one more time. Lyla waited for him to step back. She put her shirt back on, waiting a moment and then turned around, touching her lips and walking to her bed. She climbed into it, closing her eyes. The door closed to her bedroom.

About two hours later, she woke up, finding him asleep beside her, clutching her tight, like she was a stuffed animal comforting a child. She smiled, her hand touching his around her waist and fell back asleep.


	8. A Full House

**Chapter 8: A Full House**

I swore to myself I wasn't going to do this, Lyla thought, her fingers dancing over Tim's chest. And I didn't, she thought, slightly proud of herself. The entire night she'd slept like a baby. Now she wasn't sure what she was planning on doing with him, especially after their heated makeout session the night before. She still had no idea how they hadn't ended up together some time during the night. The must have good willpower, she thought. Something that often couldn't be said about either.

Lyla sat up a little on her arm, propping her head on one of her pillows. It was magenta. Magenta pillows and sheets and ruffled magenta cover she got on sale at a fancy home goods store. It was funny she was thinking about that now; maybe because it looked so weird to have Tim lying in magenta sheets. She pressed her hand against his heart. His skin was so warm. Hers felt cold. He was fast asleep; something told her he didn't sleep this well. Not usually. She curved her hand beneath her cheek, watching him. Her other hand rose and fell with each breath he took. It was almost morning, she thought, glancing over her shoulder at her window. The sun was starting to come up. She'd woken, because it was about now when she usually got up to go for a run before an early morning class.

The front door slammed shut. She jumped, her eyes wide; the door was open. Since Claire wasn't planning on coming home that night she hadn't bothered closing it. Oh no, she thought, carefully sliding out of the bed. Tim didn't wake. He rarely did. She tiptoed to the door, closing it gently and turning the lock, just in case Claire wanted to barge in like they were freshmen, staying up all night long talking about each other's lives. It really had been innocent, but something told her that Claire wouldn't see it that way, not now. She went back to the bed, crawling beside Tim. I wish I could just hide beneath these covers and never come out, she thought, slipping beneath the comforter. Maybe she could, if she just thought hard enough…

"Hmm, what're you doin'?"

Lyla opened her eyes, staring up at the magenta comforter over her eyes. She turned her head sideways; Tim was beneath the comforter as well, watching her curiously. She turned into him, folding her hands beneath her cheek, whispering. "Remember when we were in high school and we'd do this? We'd talk about…stupid things." Anything. They'd debate the dumbest things and end up laughing and giggling like idiots, before talking became pointless because their mouths were busy doing other things. Dumb teenagers, she thought. We were so stupid. Thinking we could stay under the comforter forever.

"Hmm…Batman or Superman?"

So he remembered, she thought, grinning. "Batman. Always Batman."

"It's the Dark Knight thing isn't it?"

"And the fact that Superman is too perfect, he doesn't kill."

"Someone will change that, like when they make a movie or something," Tim yawned. He closed his eyes, hugging the pillow under his head, but he didn't lower the comforter. He whispered. "Bananas with peanut butter or…"

"Chocolate," she whispered. She quirked her lip up, whispering. "Mickey Mouse or Goofy?"

"Goofy."

It was stupid. Incredibly stupid. She didn't expect them to talk about what happened the night before. What she expected was that they'd go about their lives like it didn't happen. It was just a weak moment. It wouldn't happen again, she vowed, turning her head back to him again. She swallowed hard, whispering. "You didn't have a nightmare last night."

He nodded, opening his eyes again. "Hmm," he sighed, whispering. "I don't have them every night, just…sometimes I have them after…certain times…when I get mad or something."

Emotional moments, he was trying to tell her. Guess last night's emotions didn't constitute a trigger for the nightmare. "What are they?" she murmured. She was genuinely curious. What did he dream about that scared him? This was Tim Riggins. She knew he had fears, she knew…knew he had problems, but he always hid them so well. Nightmares were such an…an expression of fear. Your brain retaliating when you most vulnerable, when you couldn't fight back.

Tim opened his eyes again. He waited a moment, frowning. "You don't want to know," he whispered.

"I do. I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know." I'm lying here, at my most vulnerable and so are you. Talk to me, she thought. She had an exam later that afternoon and a private rehab session with Max in a few hours…she needed to get out of this nice, warm bed where history was comforting her and face the life she had now. "Talk to me," she murmured.

His eyes downcast, he swallowed. Nervous. A moment passed. He spoke, soft. "I was in a cell alone. I didn't have a cellmate. Lucky, I guess…I heard noises all the damn night. It was so loud. You think it'd be quiet, but it's always loud. There were random searches. One second you're sleeping and then sirens are going off, doors opening, and they're yelling at you to get out of bed and put your hands behind your head." Oh God, she thought, biting her lip. She frowned, listening intently. Tim closed his eyes, shuddering. "I was always cold. I don't know why…"

Adrenaline, she thought, but didn't say anything. "Go on," she urged him.

"Nothing happened to me, I mean…I wasn't in with the stockbrokers you know, I was with some bad guys, but…but not murderers, not like, like people that did it on purpose, there was some guys who killed some people in a fight…you never looked anyone in the eye…" He trailed off, his voice faraway, his mind floating away. "I dream I'm back there. Lights and sirens and cold. People yelling…it was so small and…and I don't like small spaces now…" He swallowed hard, his hand reaching and grabbing hold of hers, helping him through. "And I know I'm not there, but sometimes I am again and…and I think about it again and…and I get mad…"

Lyla touched her forehead to his, whispering. "Do you have anything to help you with this?"

He nodded quickly. "I have…pills." He closed his eyes tight. He growled. "I hate them."

I would hate them too, she thought. She wondered if they were anti-anxiety meds or just sleeping pills. Either one she couldn't see him taking if he could help it. Maybe if he'd been forced. "How long have you had to take them?" she whispered. He had an addictive personality; the alcohol alone was just…although in the five days he'd been here, he hadn't had a drink. That she knew of, she did have a few exams since he'd arrived.

He sighed, shrugging, whispering. "I don't know…about a year I guess. I didn't have them after jail…not until…" He sighed again, looking away from her. "Becky caught me in a dream. I almost punched her…I went a few days later to the…" His voice hardened and his brow slammed together. "I'm not crazy you know."

Wow, sensitive much? "I didn't say you were." Becky, huh? So there was Tyra and then there was Becky. Interesting. He didn't seem to realize what he'd said. She swished her lips around, sighing. "So you went to a psychiatrist?"

"Just a doctor. Gave me a couple prescriptions. I filled them, I don't know why, they cost like a hundred bucks."

You thought you might need them; she wondered if he was scared and that's why he'd filled the prescription. If he was scared of what he might do in his sleep, if it wasn't an adult who tried to wake him up…she ran her tongue over her teeth again, playing a hunch. "Does Stevie sometimes stay with you?" He'd be, what? Three? It was possible.

He nodded quickly. "Once and while I watch him. The twins are…they're too little, so sometimes I give Mindy a break."

You're scared it might be Stevie waking you from a nap. Even though a three-year old probably shouldn't have been wandering around while he was sleeping, but…stranger things had happened in a Riggins house. She smiled; he feared for others, so he'd done something that he didn't like. It was good. Progress, so to speak. "I can't believe that they have three kids," she giggled. She hadn't asked about them. She poked his shoulder. "What are their names?"

Tim smiled. "Well there's Stevie…he's not liking that though."

"No? Does he want to be called Steven?"

"No, we have to call him Megatron," he said, laughing at Lyla's screwed up, confused expression. He turned into the pillow, smiling. "It's a character from some show he watches. It's a bad guy, so I don't know what that's about, but…anyway there's Stevie or Megatron…and then the twins, Ellie and Sammy."

"All their names end in an 'e' sound," she noticed. A girl. Lyla couldn't imagine a Riggins girl in the midst of the men. She thought Mindy might actually be a good mother. It seemed like it would suit her. Not that Lyla pretended to know her very well…it was just a hunch. She wondered how a girl lasted with the guys. "Does Mindy take over with Ellie?"

He nodded quickly, whispering. "Yeah, Ellie's been removed. Mindy doesn't want her brainwashed, but…she's cute. She looks like Tyra. They're like a year and a half old or something. I can't remember."

"So that's how come Tyra is back more, right? To see them?"

"Yeah." Tim let go of the pillow, his arms going to wrap around her, pulling her against him. He touched his nose against hers, whispering. "We have to leave Lyla. Can't stay under here forever asking about my family."

But I want to ask about your family; you love them. They're your family. You'd do anything for them. Hell, you did do everything for them. Lyla touched her fingertips to his cheek. She leaned in, kissing him gently. No more Garrity, a tiny voice inside the back of her mind told her. No more doing this. You guys are friends. She reached up, tugging down the comforter, her eyes slamming shut at the sunlight. Damn, that's harsh.

Tim climbed out of bed, putting his jeans back on. Lyla removed his shirt, quickly tugging on one of hers before he could see her topless again; last night before they'd almost gone through with it was one thing; she didn't want to test fate any more than they already had. She folded her legs Indian-style, looking up at him, her arms draped over her knees. She smiled quickly. "I have an exam at two. You can come with me to the hospital again, if you want."

"Naw, I think I might explore a bit…maybe call Billy."

Lyla nodded; that was a good idea. "Sounds like you should talk to him, he's probably very worried about you." She shook her hand through her hair; it tumbled over her shoulders. "But you know where to find me if you want to come see some more of the therapy."

"I might do that." Tim opened up the door, stopping when Claire came out of her bedroom. He lifted his hand. "Hey Claire."

A look of confusion crossed over Claire's face. She glanced into the room, shooting a look at Lyla. This isn't going to be good, Lyla thought, and her face placid. She waited until Tim had snuck downstairs, when Claire stormed into her room, closing the door. "No," Lyla said, holding up a finger before Claire could open her big mouth. "I'm not sleeping with him."

"Could have fooled me!"

"I was close, but I stopped, okay? We're not doing that."

"But you almost caved!" Claire sat on the edge of the bed, frowning. She shook her head again, whispering. "I love you Lyla, but you're making this very difficult. It's your life, but I really think you're lost. I think you're lost and you need somewhere to go…"

This sounds like what I was saying my entire junior year of high school, Lyla thought, her head in her hand, listening to Claire talk to her about finding herself and how Tim was a comfort from home and how she was coming to the end of her time at school. It might have made sense if for the fact that she was more secure in herself and her decisions than she ever had been in her life. She lifted her eyebrows, allowing Claire to finish. Once Claire was done, Lyla flashed a quick smile, leaning over and giving her best friend a tight hug. "I love you Claire, but I know what I'm doing, trust me."

"I do, but it's very hard."

"Hey, I'm your friend and this is the most trouble I've given you?" Lyla laughed, falling backwards onto her heels. She smiled. "I had to fly down to Mexico in the middle of a school year to stop my best friend from doing something almost life-threatening."

"Yeah, please don't do that, you know I don't tan well." They both chuckled. Claire's smile fell again. She patted Lyla's knee, whispering. "Please just think about it before you do anything with him. He's like a snake. Charming you back into temptation."

Maybe he was, but he was also sad and not the guy she knew. Lyla still wanted to help. She didn't say anything, giving Claire one more hug and climbed off the bed, going downstairs to Tim. "Let's get some breakfast before I have to go to the hospital. Your pick," she said, walking into the kitchen. She didn't hear his response, turning around and walking into the living room again. Tim was standing at the door. Huh. She followed him, stopping beside his elbow and peering out.

Uh-oh.

A cab was pulling out of her driveway and a very pregnant Becky Sproles was standing on her doorstep, her hand on top of a roller suitcase handle and looking both elated and nervous. She lifted her free hand, which had been on her stomach, waving it quickly. "Hi Lyla."

Lyla jerked her hand in a stunned wave. "Hey." Oh what the hell was happening now, she wondered.


	9. Make Your Way

**A/N:**Updating early because I'm going to be busy later and didn't think it fair to keep readers waiting too long because I ended on a cliffhanger of sorts. Thank you for the reviews and enjoy! (From here on out, Becky plays a rather prominent role :) ).

* * *

**Chapter 9: Making Your Way**

"Becky what the hell are you doing here?" Tim demanded, jerking her into the house by her wrist, dragging her suitcase with him. He tossed the suitcase aside, glaring at her. "I told you, I told you to stop coming after me!"

Lyla couldn't stop staring at Becky's pregnant stomach. Oh God, she thought, glancing at Tim, who looked furious at Becky's presence. Becky was just smiling, her hands on her stomach, looking up at him like nothing was amiss. I think I'm going to be sick, Lyla thought, pressing her fingers to her lips, and her other arm wrapping around her stomach. Tim…he got her…he didn't…oh God. She released a long breath, swallowing and watching the both of them; now she was slightly amused. If Tim got her pregnant, well she suspected Becky would get everything she deserved from him and more.

"Relax Garrity," Tim snapped, after Becky had said something about how she'd taken a bus, not a plane, because of her pregnancy. Lyla glanced at him, waiting. He pointed to Becky's stomach. "That's not my kid."

She squinted. "Okay." He seemed surprised by her nonchalant response. In a split second she'd gone from being nauseated at the thought of him having a child with Becky to, well, blatant 'I don't care.' She shrugged. "That's fine Tim. It's your life." We're all just living in sometimes, she thought.

The statement directed to her had Becky turning to face her and smiling. She bit her lower lip slightly, her voice soft. "Hi Lyla, I'm sorry I just dropped in like this, but…your dad mentioned Tim was here to Angela who mentioned it to Mindy, so I got your address and I thought, well you know…" She turned to Tim, scowling. "Someone had to get his ass back to Texas and Mindy and Billy weren't going to do it, so I decide it would be me."

"You need to go," Tim fumed. He was showing more anger and emotion in the ten seconds Becky had been in the house than he had the entire week, Lyla thought, slightly happy. Becky got under his skin, which was good. Kept him on his toes, but…this still didn't explain things. He gripped Becky's arm, turning her around to the door. "I'm taking you back to the bus station…"

"No, Tim, come on, wait!"

Lyla sighed; Claire was going to murder her. "Tim, stop it. She's pregnant." She walked over, closing the door. My house is becoming a refuge for Dillon runaways. Thank God they were driving back in five days. She set Becky's suitcase in a corner, along with Becky's tote bag and turned her slightly to the couch. "Have a seat, I know it's a very long bus ride. You probably didn't sleep well."

"Not really, plus Truman was kicking me nonstop."

"That baby's name is not Truman," Tim snapped. He scowled again, slouching down in an armchair next to coffee table, glaring at Becky. "His name is Taylor."

Becky rolled her eyes, settling back and folding her hands over her belly. "Yes, his name is Taylor, but you know I like giving him funny nicknames. He was Herman earlier today when he was running across my bladder." She took the glass of water Lyla offered her, smiling again. "Thank you Lyla. I'm sorry for coming in like this, but…well no one was telling me why Tim up and left and…and I had some days off from work and I thought I've never been out of Texas, so…what the hell?"

"So what the hell?" Tim wasn't allowing Becky a chance to really explain herself; he kept jumping on her. He leaned over his knees, still glaring at her. "I told you Becky." His voice dropped, almost menacingly. "I told you not to follow me."

Good for Becky, Lyla thought, when she lifted her chin, shooting him an annoyed look. She cleared her throat, sitting on the armrest of the chair, patting Tim's knee, leaving her fingers there to steady him. She could practically feel his muscles and nerves releasing as he leaned backwards, his breathing easing up. The Riggins Whisperer, Jason called her once, teasingly. It was truer than anything else. "Becky, why don't you just…just let us know why you came? I think that might clear up some…" Lyla glanced back at Tim. "Hostilities."

Becky set her glass of water on the coffee table, folding her hands back again. "I told you, I'm here to take Tim back to Texas." She frowned, but it was concerned, not angry, looking at Tim. Her voice dropped again. "You need to come home, Tim. Billy and Mindy are freaking out; Billy thinks he ruined everything again. He doesn't know why, he won't go to practice, he isn't even playing with the kids, he's just moping around and he goes to your house…" She looked at Lyla, slightly distracted. "Have you seen his house?" Without any word from Lyla or from Tim, she reached into her bag, grabbing her phone. She giggled. "I just got this from Luke for my birthday. I've never had a cell phone that could actually, well, do anything than call…" She pulled up a photo, turning it towards Lyla.

Tim mumbled something about don't make a big deal, but Lyla ignored him, taking the smartphone from Becky, staring down at the pixelated image on the small screen. She squinted, studying it. It was…it wasn't very large. One story. It had black shutters, she thought, smiling at it. A red front door. Brick and white wooden siding. A porch. It looked like an old ranch house out of a Western. There was a rocking chair on the front porch.

She drew in a shaky breath; home. That's what it was; it was a home. She closed the phone, passing it back to Becky. "It's beautiful," she whispered. She glanced at Tim, reaching to take his hand, squeezing hard, looking straight into his eyes. It really didn't matter. "It is beautiful Tim. It looks just…" _You and me are going to get us a big ole' hunting ranch_. She swallowed, opening up the phone again, staring at it. A ranch house. It was…she closed her eyes, shutting the phone and passing it to Becky again. "Nevermind, it's gorgeous, very pretty." Shut up Garrity; just stop.

"It is very pretty," Becky said, looking at Tim. She held her phone loosely in her hand, gesturing with it towards Tim. "Do you want a reminder Tim Riggins?"

He didn't say anything, his lips pursed and eyebrow lifted slightly; annoyed, Lyla judged. She stood up, moving to sit beside Becky on the couch, taking another view of Tim. "You know, Becky, we're planning on driving back to Dillon on Thursday…I have to finish some exams and work and then we're going to go back for Christmas." It's going to be a very long five days, as well as a long three-day drive back to Dillon, but…you're probably going to regret this Garrity, she thought, swallowing hard. "You can stay here…um, how many months…"

"I'm thirty-two weeks."

"And you got on a bus!" Tim exclaimed. "To come to Tennessee to get me, after I told you not to come."

"Well I thought that you might have gone to Philadelphia to see the Taylors, which would have been cooler and then I thought maybe New York, so I got a ticket there, but then I heard from Mindy that you were in Nashville." Becky reached into her bag, removing a CD, smiling and grinning. "And it's so cool that you're in Nashville, because I just love Rayna Jaymes, do you think we could find her maybe? I'd love an autograph."

Lyla quirked her lip slightly. "Sometimes she sings at the Bluebird, but it's impossible to get inside." She glanced at Tim, who was scowling. "Tim," she murmured. She shrugged her shoulder. It couldn't be horrible to have Becky here for a few days. She'd remind him of Dillon, which frankly, Lyla thought he might need a little bit of. It was his home. It was his being. She smiled quickly at Becky. "You know…you must be absolutely exhausted and…and feeling all grimy because of the bus ride, why don't you get a shower? I'll put your stuff in my room and you can sleep there…"

I'll have to figure out where I'll sleep, since Tim will take the couch. She supposed she could crash with Claire, but…damnit, Claire. She felt bad for her roommate; who was probably going to kick her out after all this mess. She stowed Becky's stuff in her bedroom, while Becky went into the bathroom.

She took a deep breath, knocking on Claire's door, pushing it open. "Hey, um…got a second?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Claire looked up from her books. She clapped her hands together. "I am so glad I have my last exam tomorrow morning and then I will be on a plane to Charleston in two days, it's going to be amazing and I told you that you're more than welcome to come again, my family loves you."

Yeah, um, about that…Lyla closed the door, the shower beginning to run. Claire pointed to the wall. "Your boyfriend will pay his fair share of the utilities after he leaves, we're going through so much water. Why is he taking another shower anyway?"

"Well he's not…" Lyla sighed, closing her eyes and sat down beside Claire on her bed. She looked up, shrugging and mumbling. "Someone else from Dillon dropped by. I said she could stay…"

"What!?"

Not going to go well. "Claire, she's pregnant, she's like Tim's little sister…"

"We are not a halfway house for Dillon, Texas refugees!"

There was another knock on the door, which opened again, Tim leaning in. He smiled, sheepish. "Hey Claire, don't worry about Becks, I'll get rid of her…"

"You are not getting rid of a pregnant woman!" Claire exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart. She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Lyla shot Tim a dark look; this was making it worse, Claire could be incredibly dramatic. "Okay, you know what? I'm going to just breathe through this. We are going to provide shelter to a woman who is carrying a child. God's greatest miracle…"

Now she's going to go all born-again, great, Lyla thought, rolling her eyes as Claire began to talk about how they owed it to people and salvation and everything. She sighed hard. "Claire, she's not going to stay long. I promise."

"Yeah, you better." Gone was the Christian charity within a second. Claire pointed at Tim. "This is your fault. You messed up Lyla's life and now you're messing up mine. By the way, my boyfriend wants to meet you because he's freaking out, since he remembered what you looked like from a picture Lyla had up all freshman year."

Tim frowned, glancing at Lyla. "Sure." He smiled a little. "You can also tell your boyfriend to relax Claire. You're not my type."

Lyla stifled a laugh as Claire scowled; she could be very vain. "Excuse me?" Claire asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She laughed, pageant smile on full display, and her bright green eyes sparkling. "I am a catch. Everyone loves me."

"You're not my type."

"Well then what is your type?"

Tim glanced at Lyla, smiling. It was meeting his eyes now; that visit to the group yesterday had really done wonders, she thought, making a mental note to take him tomorrow. "I got a thing for brunettes." His voice cooled, sarcastic. "Make me all weak in the knees." He closed the door, Claire's mouth falling to the floor.

She glared sideways. "That means you, you know."

Lyla smiled, shaking her head. She pursed her lips a little bit, patting Claire's knee. "Thanks for being so supportive during this. I promise I'll owe you."

"And I will collect Lyla."

I have no doubt about that, Lyla thought, leaving the bedroom. She had to deal with this Becky and Tim situation now.


	10. Standing Still

**A/N:**Thanks so much for the reviews! Enjoy :)

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**Chapter 10: Standing Still**

Lyla went back downstairs after her discussion with Claire; Tim was brooding in the armchair, his knees slung over the armrest and his head propped up against the straight back. It looked uncomfortable, but he was barely breathing. Or blinking, staring straight ahead at Becky's phone, which was on the coffee table. She walked over, sitting in Becky's vacated spot. "Tim," she mumbled. She sighed. "Tim, she's right. You need to get back home and start thinking about what's going to happen when you get back."

"You know," Tim said. He sat up a little farther, glaring at her. "You know I don't like feeling like this, but I'm kind of glad that Billy's upset about me being gone."

"How very teenage daughter of you," Lyla drawled. She smiled at his frown. "It's what I'd do with my mom when I got mad at her. When I was fifteen. I'd run away to Jason's house or something and then I'd feel…gleeful, I guess, when I found out that she worried for me."

"I'm not…gleeful."

"You kind of are, you just said you're kind of glad Billy's upset."

"Well he should be," Tim said. He looked up the stairs, the shower running. He sighed, closing his eyes, hitting his head back against the armchair. "Becky. Damn her. I didn't think she'd do this."

I'm surprised she didn't help you after you initially got out of prison. Lyla pursed her lips, fiddling with one of her rings. She twisted the one with a panther around and around, looking up at him. "So…she's pregnant?"

Tim shrugged; he didn't seem to think much of it. "Yeah, she's pregnant. I'm not thrilled." He almost growled, like he was her father or something. Lyla lifted an eyebrow, trying not to smile. "Luke. Guy came back for six weeks between deployments. Hasn't even seen her since she found out. He'll probably miss Taylor's birth…I'm going to kill him." He held up his finger, jabbing it down into the armrest. "He's going to marry her. She says she doesn't need it, but…he's going to marry her."

Oh my God. Lyla broke into a smile, her eyes lighting up. She laughed, covering her mouth, trying to smother it, but she couldn't help it and laughed again, leaning over her knees. She tossed her hair back, smiling at Tim, who was frowning at her. "I'm sorry," she said, waving her hand, squealing into another laugh. She snorted this time. I just have to stop trying to hold them in, she thought, pressing her fingers to her lips, composing herself. She smiled wide, glancing in his direction again. "I'm sorry Tim, but…oh my gosh it's been like a week and you've been so miserable, this is the most…I don't know…it's good to see you like this. You love her."

To her surprise, he readily admitted it. "Yes, I love her," Tim said, lifting his eyebrows. He smiled, in spite of himself, whispering. "She's like my sister Lyla."

"I didn't say she wasn't."

"Well lots of people…" He sighed, shrugging, looking down at his hands, twisting his fingers around together. "Lots of people think that I liked her like something more…maybe I did, after jail…" he sighed, whispering. "I'd been about a year, so you know, any woman would have done, but…" He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the floor. "But she'd grown up and…I don't know, I guess she seemed…" He shrugged. "Less like a kid." He took a deep breath, letting it out. "But now… now, she's like my sister. When she got pregnant I almost found a way to get to Afghanistan to get Luke back." He rolled his eyes again, mumbling. "Billy thought it was me. Came over to my house and punched me. That was a fun night. Both of us drunk and complaining about how we were going to kill Luke." He rolled his eyes, looking down at his hands. "For me it was the second time…after what he'd done to her the first time."

Lyla frowned, whispering. "What did he do to her the first time?" She didn't even know who Luke was. She was also trying to follow the conversation. He'd said something that forced her to look up. Something about Billy. She made a note to return to it in a moment.

Tim pressed his lips together. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, and whispering. "It's personal. Becky's decision."

Okay, that's fine. Lyla got up from the couch, walking over and sliding into the armchair with him. She sat slightly on his knees, her heels digging into the cushion to keep herself propped up. Reaching for his bad hand, she began to massage the adhesions. He closed his eyes, almost purring as she began to attack a knot. She reached over to the table beside her, where she had some massage lotion, squirting some into her hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, opening up one eye.

"Shut up." Lyla began to work out the scar tissue, wondering who set his bones, because it was a terrible job. She tossed her hair over her shoulder again. "You know Tim…a second ago you said that you and Billy were…commiserating I guess, about Becky being pregnant." She looked at his expression. He seemed surprised. She smiled. "I'm just wondering…do you guys…I mean, what did you think then?"

He opened the other eye, watching her work his hand for a few more minutes. "What do you mean?" he finally asked.

Lyla pushed her thumb into his skin, slowly pushing up to his knuckle. She heard a pop and heard him gasp in surprise. "Feel good?" she asked, smiling quickly.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, laughing slightly and sitting up, looking over her shoulder, as her back was slightly turned to him so she could push her weight into some of the manipulation.

"I'm releasing some of these adhesions."

"Huh?"

"Did you get an order for physical therapy after you broke your hand? When they took the cast off?"

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes, keeping her voice even. "Did you even get a cast?"

"Nope."

"Order for surgery?"

"Can't remember."

"You are going to get yourself killed one day," she laughed, working on his fingers, smiling over her shoulder. She smiled again, whispering. "Did you and Billy…hang out and drink often?"

Tim waited another few minutes. He rested his head against the wing of the armchair, his eyes closing while she kept massaging his hand. She finished, turning slightly and pushed him down off the chair, tugging at the top of his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"I'm in a mood, just go with it." She tossed the shirt aside, pushing his neck over to the left. "Good Lord Tim, look at these adhesions."

"You can't see them."

"Yes, you actually can, your neck is so tense. You need to stretch before you work out, have you been running?" She knew that he liked to run to clear his head. He generally didn't take good care of himself, choosing to eat nothing but crap and junk and drink alcohol instead of water, but he did like to work out. She hoped he still kept it up, even if he wasn't playing football religiously anymore.

Tim shook his head, while she began to massage at his neck. He sighed, whispering. "I don't really…with Billy…no." He sighed again, whispering. "I mean…sometimes I do. Sometimes he comes over and we drink beer and watch football. Or I watch Stevie or…sometimes Mindy makes me come over for dinner."

Sounds like Mindy doesn't make you do anything, you want to go there for dinner. She was glad to hear it. She leaned into one of his knots, feeling him tense. "Too much pressure?" she asked.

"No, it's fine, but that's my bad shoulder."

Oh crap, that's right. She eased up on the pressure, looking up towards the staircase; Becky was still in the shower. Lyla kept working a knot, glancing down at Tim, who was staring off into space. "Hey Tim," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"You do love Billy." It was a statement. Not a question. Lyla couldn't question it. He loved his brother. Everything he'd done to get himself into this position was based out of love.

He sighed, swallowing nervously. He turned slightly, looking up at her. She stopped her ministrations, her hands going to her knees. He rested his hand on her knee, his eyes focused on hers. She couldn't get a read on what he was thinking right now. He looked down at the floor, whispering. "Maybe, Garrity, but I still look at him and sometimes…I just get so damn mad. I want to hit something."

She slipped to the floor, sitting beside him. "What do you do when you get those feelings?" she murmured. He'd seemed so sad to her, but she knew that he could get violent. He was a loose cannon a lot of the time, brooding the other times. She rested her hand on his, waiting.

Tim blinked; he didn't know, she thought, sitting up a little straighter. He looked up at the stairs. The water had turned off; Becky would soon be out and they'd have to stop this conversation. He looked down at his hands again, whispering. "I drink," he murmured. He shrugged. "Or I go punch something. Can't punch someone…don't want to end up in jail again."

Lyla looked at his hand. She arched an eyebrow, whispering. Something dawned on her. "Billy didn't break your hand with a brick." Another statement.

It took a few more seconds, but Tim finally dropped his head. His voice fell farther, a hushed whisper. "I punched the wall. Hit a beam instead of drywall." He drew in a deep breath. "Billy wanted me to skip work. I told him no, he threw a…whatever. Got annoyed or something. I went back to work. I wanted to go to the bar, but…I kept working on the house and then I just wanted to go find him and hit him, so I hit the wall…broke my hand."

"And you told people Billy dropped the brick on it. What did he say to that?"

"He went with it," he whispered. He looked over at her again. "He just goes with it. I almost wish…" He sighed. "I wish he'd fight back sometimes, but he just takes it, because he knows…knows he was wrong. That he can't just build a house with me and that will fix this."

I don't like that you guys aren't communicating, Lyla thought. She knew that they had to lean on each other; they were all each other had for a long, long time. She frowned slightly. "Didn't Tyra help you with this stuff? With getting you guys to talk?"

"Kind of. She just…helped me realize that I wanted Dillon and…I don't know, she made it better for awhile." Tim glanced at her again, whispering. "If you'd come back it probably would have been the same thing and…and you would have done just what Tyra did and realize I was dragging her down. Like before. Why you didn't stay."

Don't do this Tim. Lyla closed her eyes. "I didn't stay Tim because that wasn't the life I wanted anymore. Believe me, I would have done it if I hadn't gone to college. If you hadn't pushed me to go to Vanderbilt, you know? I would have stayed in a heartbeat, but you told me to go and that you didn't want to drag me down, do you remember?" His frown told her that he didn't. Or if he did, he wasn't recognizing it. She smiled; her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I went, I was so mad at you before I left, you were not interested in going to San Antonio and…and I knew we were over when I left…then I came back and you'd thrown away the scholarship and I was having so much fun here and realizing it was everything I'd hoped…and then you wanted me to stay and I just couldn't." She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to cry at the memory, because it broke her heart when he said that all he wanted was her. Because she would have said all she wanted was him if he'd said that a few months before.

Tim reached for her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "I love you," he whispered. He chuckled, when she seized. "Don't worry. It's not like that."

I know what you mean, she thought, smiling away her tears. She pulled away, kissing his cheek. "I love you too," she replied. She wasn't sure she would have told him that earlier in the week, when she wanted to kill him for showing up and threatening to ruin her life and all the progress she made. She would always love him, it was just how it was.

Becky bounded down the staircase a second later, interrupting them. She frowned. "Where's your shirt Tim?"

"Why do you care?"

"You're just a breath of fresh air. This is how you treat me?"

"It's how I treat unwanted visitors. You could give birth here."

Lyla stood up from the floor. "No one is giving birth here, she's fine Tim." She went into the kitchen and picked up her cell phone, to call Buddy and let him know that Becky was here, to let Mindy or someone back there know. In the background, Tim and Becky were bickering about whether or not Becky was in fact going to give birth on a certain day or not, because Tim had money on a Thursday. She said she'd try to make it happen, but no promises. She smiled in spite of herself. "Hey Daddy, it's me. Give me a call when you get a chance." She hung up, just as Becky yelled at Tim to stop touching her stomach. She smiled, but only because Tim was actually doing something other than brooding and being sad and bitter. Maybe Becky showing up to help bring him back was a good thing.


	11. Out the Side Door

**A/N:**So I thought it was chapter 12 where Tami Taylor's doppelganger shows up, but it's actually this one. Figured I couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Enjoy :)

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**Chapter 11: Out the Side Door**

"Okay Andrew, we're done," Lyla said, helping Andrew finish with one of the machines. She looked over at Yan, who nodded, indicating that he was done issuing the practical exam. She helped him, with Yan, into his wheelchair, looking up as Yan made a few more notations on his clipboard. She leaned in to Andrew, whispering. "Do you think I passed?"

Andrew gave her a thumb's up. He grinned, nodding quickly. "Yeah. Hey, can Tim come back inside?"

Yan nodded when Lyla glanced at him to confirm if it was all right. She opened up the door, Tim walking in from where he'd been hanging around in the hallway. "What's up little man?" Tim asked, offering his fist, which Andrew bumped. He squinted. "That wasn't a fist."

Lyla glanced down at Andrew, who folded his fingers a little tighter, fighting for a second to form the fist. He sighed in exertion, looking up, grinning. "I did it!"

"Now that's a fist," Tim said, bumping knuckles against Andrew's. "Good hit man. You can play quad rugby one day."

"Yeah! That sounds awesome!"

Andrew's parents will be so thrilled, Lyla thought with an eyeroll. She smiled at Tim, but glanced to Yan. "I'll take Andrew back to his room," she said.

"That's fine, you're good to go, I'll send your final workup to the board and you should have your grade next week," Yan answered, smiling at her. "Have a good Christmas Lyla."

"I'll see you next semester," she called; Yan left, leaving Tim, her, and Andrew behind. The eight-year old was showing Tim how he could fold his fist again, his fingers curling. She smiled; Tim was folding his fingers in the way Andrew had to teach himself how to do. He held up his hand, in a Vulcan salute.

"Like this?" Tim laughed.

Andrew rolled his eyes, giggling. "No! That's Spock!"

"Who?"

Uh oh. Andrew was a comic book and science fiction nerd. He gasped. "You don't know who Spock is!?"

"I know him," Tim protested; no he didn't, not really. He formed his hands into the Vulcan salute again. "This?"

"Yup."

Lyla didn't want to break up the little lovefest, but she did have to get going; she had to drop off a paper with the department before the end of the day, when it was officially due. "Okay Andrew, I'll take you back now." She pushed his wheelchair out of the therapy room, down the hall and into the children's ward. She helped him out of the chair and into bed, setting the television remote and a few books at his side. "Remember, call the nurse if you need anything," she said. She didn't want him to hurt himself.

"Yeah, yeah," Andrew said, already tuning her out. He bumped fists with Tim again. "Are you going back to Texas?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, sorry man, but I gotta' get back to my life."

That was the first time Tim had said that. She smiled a little, her arms crossed over her chest. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, while Andrew and Tim chatted for a few minutes. She finally cleared her throat. "Okay, I have to go now. Andrew, I'll see you in a few weeks." She would be following Andrew out of the hospital and to his home, as her practical advanced to a more visiting program, providing at-home therapy. She gave him a quick hug, walking away. Tim and Andrew did a male hug thing and fist-bumped one more time. They shared a few words and Tim finally broke away, running his hands over his face, walking by her into the hallway.

She walked beside him in silence; he seemed genuinely upset to say goodbye to Andrew. She cleared her throat, leaning back against the elevator. "You had fun with them?" It had been a couple of days, he'd come to all her practicals, since the option meant hanging around with Becky, who had kind of latched on to Claire, much to Claire's displeasure.

Tim nodded briefly. "They're cool kids," he murmured. He crossed his arms over his chest, slouching against the corner of the elevator. It dinged, hitting the bottom floor. He walked out, not looking at her, but mumbled. "Thanks."

Good. Lyla followed him out and to the parking garage, up to her car. He climbed into the passenger seat and she waited a second, finally turning to him. "Tim have you given any thought to what you might want to do when you get back to Texas? You can't survive on odd jobs." Maybe you could, she thought, if he had a paycheck to just live, but…where was the mental and emotional fulfillment? She was one of those people who believed everything had to be serviced otherwise you were never going to be happy. Tim wouldn't be happy just bouncing around. He needed stability.

Hell, he craved stability; he just had never had a semblance of it. That was the whole point of his dream for them, she thought. She'd gone over it in her head a million times on the bus ride from Dillon to Nashville two years ago. What was so great about the life he wanted for them? It was stable. It had both of them in a simple job, doing simple things. It's a simple life, but it's kind of a great life, he'd told her. That's what he wanted. I don't want simple, not really, she thought, biting her lower lip. She didn't get an answer; wouldn't, she guessed, turning her car on. They drove away and she double-parked outside of the department building a few minutes later, running inside to drop off her final paper with a kiss on the envelope, shoving it into the slot on her advisor's door. She ran back, got into the Escape, and drove off.

"We're not going back to your house?" Tim asked, when they drove by her street. He blinked. "Where are we going?"

"You still haven't really experienced Nashville."

"What?"

"I said," she stressed, glancing sideways. "That you haven't experienced Nashville. Check the visor."

Tim glanced up, reaching above the sun visor, removing a thin envelope. He flicked it open, removing two tickets. He smiled at them, glancing sideways. "Seriously? Becky is going to kill me if she finds out about this."

"So we'll get an autograph." She smiled a little; even when they were together they didn't do stuff like this. It had become an issue once, when she flipped on him around Valentine's Day, since he'd totally forgotten, hadn't made any plans, and was planning on going with Billy to some stupid thing. He'd made it up to her, but it was forever an issue that they didn't do 'couple-like' things. Just once a month, that was all she was asking. "But you have to listen to country music live when you're in Nashville. At least once, you know?"

"What else? We already did that bridge thing."

Lyla remembered when she'd first moved to Nashville; it had been so damn exciting those six weeks before she'd gone back to Dillon. She was on her own for the first time in her life, she was away from family, and she was single. Really, truly, and honestly single for the first time. She hadn't told Tim, but she'd hooked up with a guy one of her first weeks at Vanderbilt. It had been illicit and tawdry and she felt like a new person. She was positive that Tim wasn't celibate just because they had sort-of-not-really-probably broken up when he went to San Antonio and she drove off with her dad to Tennessee. She'd done all the touristy things. Gone to the Bluebird, walking along the bridge, visited the Grand Ole' Opry and the Country Music Hall of Fame. One of her favorite things had actually been visiting the Parthenon, only because she hadn't yet visited the real one in Greece. Until last year, she thought with a smile; for the summer, her and Claire had gone on a twenty-day tour of Europe. It was one of the best experiences of her life.

"Well, we don't have much time, but I thought maybe we could do the country music stuff tomorrow. Tonight we have this and then something else. We kind of already did it." Lyla pulled her car into a parking space downtown, crawling into the backseat.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked.

"Pulling a Dirty Dancing."

"A what?"

"You watched that movie."

Tim peeked around the passenger seat while she began to change out of her scrubs into a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top. She shoved her feet into cowboy boots, which she hadn't worn since she was back in Dillon. It felt appropriate for the night they were going to have and the company she was keeping. "Guess what?" he said, chuckling. "I was probably drunk or passed out."

"You probably were," she mumbled, not caring when she shrugged a tank top on over her bra. She grabbed her battered brown leather jacket, climbing out of the backseat, reaching for a clutch purse. "Okay."

"Okay," Tim said, walking with her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He looked around, his voice quiet. "This is kind of nice."

"It's nice to get your mind off of things," Lyla agreed, walking away from the lot where she'd parked her car. She reached into her purse, removing the tickets she'd slipped in before climbing out of the car. She looked up at him, smiling. "You hate country music, don't you?"

Tim's nose wrinkled, but he said nothing. She arched an eyebrow, staring at him. He laughed, nodding and smiling again. "Yes, I hate it, but…" He held up his finger, stilling her before she was about to say anything. "I'll suck it up. For you."

Well that's nice of you, she thought, smiling and approaching the door. She passed over the tickets to get into the special showcase that evening; she'd had Claire's boyfriend get them for her, since he moonlighted as a roadie and knew someone who knew someone. She took a seat where the hostess showed them, smiling at the small little circle in the center of the room. It was so intimate. "Drinks?" a waitress asked, smiling down at them.

"Ah…" Lyla thought for a second. She smiled. "Jack Daniels, double."

"And for you?"

Tim ran his tongue over his teeth, squinting at her. The corner of his lip curved again. He shrugged. "Whatever's on tap." He waited until the waitress went off to get their drinks, leaning on the table, frowning. "You don't drink whiskey."

Oh, but I do, she thought, smiling. She leaned in, her voice soft and her eyes sparkling; almost flirting, if it weren't him. "I've changed," she murmured, her lips brushing across his. She smiled. "I'm not the same girl Tim, I already told you." He smiled, pulling away from her when the waitress returned with their drinks. He sipped at his beer, while she took a long pull of the whiskey. It felt good; nice and smooth. She'd never had whiskey until her second year of college; Claire had become born-again, was being so damn obnoxious about her megachurch, so Lyla had gone out with her boyfriend at the time, a guy who grew up on a Kentucky horse farm and said nothing beat bourbon. She thought whiskey would, so, you know, when in Rome, she'd thought.

Tim swallowed another sip of beer. "When does the music start?" he asked.

"Soon." She leaned forward a little. Her voice was quiet. "Have you talked to Billy?"

A few singers came out; Lyla recognized them, they were actually songwriters, testing new music. She loved this, she thought, using Tim's silence as an excuse to turn away, to watch. The music was very nice, she thought, listening to the first song with a smile; it was pretty upbeat. She glanced back at Tim, who had been watching her. He drank some more beer. "Yes," he finally said.

Yes, what? Oh, that's right, she thought, remembering her question from like fifteen minutes before. Billy. "When did you talk to him?" she asked.

"Couple days ago. This morning too, I mean…had to let him know about Becky, you know?" He frowned. "Where is Becky?"

"I think she went with Claire to dinner."

"Oh. Your roommate still hates me."

"I told you, she's protective." Tim rolled his eyes, mumbling something about 'psycho.' Or she was psycho, Lyla was pretty sure that could be an accurate assessment of her friend too. He twirled his glass of beer around. He sighed, speaking quietly; Lyla had to strain to hear over the loud, fast music, a banjo playing. "I talked to Billy. Told him I'll be home next week."

"You miss him?" Lyla asked. She didn't get a response; she wouldn't. She knew he missed him. She drank some more of her whiskey, clapping her hands along with the rest of the room to the beat of the song. It was so much fun, she thought, laughing and turning to Tim, who was just smiling softly. "Come on!" she said, grabbing his hands, trying to clap them together, but he steadfastly refused. She stuck her tongue out, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Suit yourself. Party pooper."

"I'm not a party pooper."

She drank some more of her whiskey, setting it on the waitress's tray when she returned, getting another and taking a bigger drink. The few singers and songwriters that came out left after a couple of hours. Lyla just drank, listening to Tim ask about what she liked about country music, because he wasn't sure what there was to like. She told him she just liked it. It could be fun and it could be sad. It told stories.

The café erupted when the woman of the night came out, Lyla turning to Tim, frowning. "She really does look like Mrs. Taylor."

Tim shrugged. "I don't see it."

"We'll have to get a photo." Lyla leaned against him as Rayna began to sing, with her guitar player sitting beside her. She found herself moving closer to Tim, especially when one of the songs they began to play was soft and sad. She closed her eyes, listening to the words.

_No one will ever love you, the way I do_

Her eyes opened a few minutes later, the last few sad notes of the song petering out. She bit her lower lip, lifting her head to Tim, who was just staring off his space. His arms had gone around her, holding her against him. She didn't even realize. She leaned back, kissing his jaw, her fingers drifting over it. When he finally met her gaze, she broke away, letting go of him and sitting up. She got up, excusing herself to go to the restroom; it was fine, because Rayna had finished her set; it wasn't very long.

She went into the bathroom, leaning against the counter, her eyes downcast. She closed them. Shit. That was close. Lyla lifted her face, staring at her reflection. She jumped when the door opened and her eyes widened a little more, Rayna entering. "Hey there," Rayna said, smiling at her and turning on the sink. "How are you this evening?"

"Ah…fine," she laughed, smiling. What did you say to a country music superstar in a bathroom? Lyla smiled wider. "That was a good set, beautiful, actually."

"Why thank you," Rayna drawled, turning off the faucet. She reached for some paper towels, wiping her hands, leaning her hip against the counter, still smiling. This close to her, Lyla was sure that she was Tami's identical twin. Her accent was just different. "I saw you sitting right up front, with that good looking guy."

"Oh, yeah," Lyla laughed. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, about to say that Rayna was the one who was with the good-looking guy, referring to her guitar player, when Rayna continued.

"You know I love playing these venues, you see all kinds of people. I hope you don't mind my saying but you should hold on to him," Rayna said, smiling quickly. She wiped her hands on a paper towel again. "He was looking at you like you were the only one in this entire bar. Usually people look at the singer, but he wasn't, so I noticed."

Yeah, well Tim's attention span was about five seconds long. Lyla frowned slightly, looking down at the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, well," she shrugged, whispering. "He's got issues."

"Those can be hard, trust me I know," Rayna said with a chuckle. She smiled, reaching to touch Lyla's elbow, grinning. "Well thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed the show. Have fun tonight."

"Thank you." Lyla waited a minute, the door closing behind Rayna. Her face fell and she laughed, turning and almost collapsing against the counter. Wow. That was…surreal. She laughed, waiting a minute and left; poor Becky, she was going to kill her for talking with Rayna and not getting an autograph. She went to the table, collecting her jacket and purse while Tim reached into his pocket for cash to pay their tab.

"It's covered," the waitress said, smiling quickly.

"Covered?" Tim asked. "By who?"

"Here's your receipt." The waitress gave a slip of paper to Lyla, who glanced down at it, seeing their drinks and then turned it over. There was loopy script writing in a short note.

_You remind me of myself, hope you enjoyed the show and enjoy each other more. -Rayna._

Oh my God. Tim peeked over her shoulder. He picked up the receipt, staring at it. "Wow," he said, glancing at Lyla. He laughed. "Becky is going to freak! I can't wait to tell her."

Lyla took the receipt, folding it carefully and slipping it into her purse. She cleared her throat. "Come on, let's go, you're going to drive. You only had the one beer." Damn. She had more than Tim Riggins. That was probably one for the history books. She passed him her keys, walking out of the café, gesturing towards the street leading back to her car. "I'll tell you where to go, it's about ten minutes away."

"Sure."

They didn't speak, except for her, telling him where to drive. They stopped in front of the park, the lights lit up around the giant Greek replica. Tim's eyes widened as they climbed out, beginning to walk across the grass towards it. It was closed, but Lyla didn't care; it was prettier at night anyway. "Holy crap."

"It's a lifesize replica of the actual Parthenon, except this is complete. The one in Greece is a ruin." She crossed her arms, whispering. "It's beautiful. It was the Athenians tribute to Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom."

"I always liked the love chick."

"Aphrodite?" she laughed, walking slowly with him across the grass. Yeah, she thought he might. She shrugged. "Aphrodite was a bit of a slut. She was married to Hephaestus but had an affair with Ares. Their son was Eros."

"Who?"

"Cupid," she giggled. She smiled, whispering. "In Greek mythology, I always felt for Persephone. She was sent to the Underworld to live with Hades, only allowed up for a few months a year. It's why there's winter and summer. Demeter, her mother, was Goddess of the Harvest and mourned when Persephone was sent to the Underworld, bringing winter. She was happy when Persephone returned and we have summer."

Tim shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. He looked up at the building, shrugging. "It's pretty cool." He glanced down at her again, smiling. "You know," he murmured, reaching his hand out to brush at her cheek. Lyla wondered what she had on it; maybe a bit of dirt or something. He dropped his hands, whispering. "You could be Aphrodite, but…I think you're more like Athena."

Aw, thanks, she thought, smiling. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, whispering. "You know it's been a little over a week. You still seem different, but…" She pulled back, tweaking his nose, smiling. "I think I can see some of the old Tim coming out."

He shrugged, murmuring. "The old Tim is kind of like the old Lyla." She cocked her head; what did he mean by that? He answered a moment later, breathing his explanation. "The newer version isn't so bad."

I don't know about that Tim. She smiled, whispering. "Yeah, but the new Lyla was just improved from the old version who did everything for her family and her boyfriends and nothing for herself." She sighed, her forehead wrinkling. Tears pricked her eyes; damnit, she didn't want to cry. She smiled, shaky. "The new Tim is just…the new Tim might be more serious and take things more seriously, but he's sad and the old Tim might have brooded and had his moments where he wasn't the life of the party, but…" Her voice rattled. "The old Tim wouldn't have run away from the one place that he thought was home. The place he gave up college for and did something for himself." She smiled again. The tears trickled out. "The old Tim wanted a home and he built it for himself. It was just new Tim that ran away from it."

She let go of him, walking back to her car. Tears fell down her face and she wiped at them, hurriedly. Tim returned, sitting silently beside her for a few minutes before he turned the car on, driving off. They got home, finding Claire and Becky awake and watching a movie. "How was the concert thing?" Claire asked, throwing popcorn into her mouth.

"Fine," she laughed.

Becky leaned over the back of the couch. "Are you alright Lyla?"

"I'm fine," she said, swallowing hard. She glanced at Tim, who was just staring at her. She shrugged, gesturing to the stairs. "I'm going to go to bed. I have a bit of a headache from the whiskey." She disappeared upstairs, closing the door behind her. After a few minutes, she changed and crawled into bed. She didn't cry, but she remained awake.

A couple hours later there was a soft knock on the door. It pushed open, Becky leaning in. "Hey, um, where should I sleep?" she asked. She shrugged. "Um, I've been in your bed the last couple days."

Damn, that's right. Lyla climbed out, grabbing her pillow. "Sorry," she mumbled, walking by Becky, ignoring her a second time when she asked if she was all right. She went downstairs, the lights turned off. Tim was staring up at the ceiling. She sighed, throwing her pillow down on the floor and removed some blankets from the linen closet. She curled up within them, waiting again. Whatever, she thought, closing her eyes tight. After a few minutes, she stood up and slipped onto the couch. He opened his eyes, staring straight at her. She said nothing and kissed him, her hands sliding up beneath his t-shirt. She arched against him, finally breaking the kiss a moment later.

"We can't," Tim reminded her, his voice husky against her lips. She nodded, kissing him again and tearing herself away, looking up at the staircase. Anyone could come downstairs. They couldn't. She nodded and separated from him, crawling back down to her little nest of blankets on the floor. A moment later, he was right beside her, kissing the back of her neck.

She smiled, whispering. "I thought you said we can't...because, we not like we can't, but...we really shouldn't." I even said so! I even told you that we weren't going to do this. Damn my hormones, she thought, her hands having a mind of their own and going to the button on his jeans.

His hand curled around her hip, his fingers dancing along the waistband of her flannel pajama pants. "Live dangerously Garrity," he murmured.

Now this seemed like the old Tim, she thought, feeling him turn her around to face him and his hands pushing up at her t-shirt. She moaned, her fingers gripping at the back of his head, holding him against her as he stroked his fingers deftly across her skin. She finally tore away when a door opened upstairs, both of them freezing. There was a light padding of feet to the top of the stairs. She froze, lying very still on the other side of the couch as someone, Becky or Claire, she wasn't sure, came downstairs and into the kitchen, the sink running for a moment and then the nighttime visitor retreating back upstairs, a door closing.

Yeah, we can't do this, she thought, feeling Tim slip away from her, climbing back up onto the couch. She lay still on the floor for a few minutes. "Tim?" she murmured. He didn't respond, lying still on the couch. She frowned, pushing away the slight disappointment. Damnit. She hated feeling like this. She shook her head, frustrated in many ways now, and rolled onto her side, forcing her eyes shut.


	12. Leaving Home

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews and kind words, they mean a lot! :) I'm glad people are enjoying this and I want to do a road trip fic to Philly, which might be an extension fic from this. It was in the works, but I deleted that part and went a different direction for the remainder of this fic. I might still return to it. Anyways, enjoy and thanks for the reviews!

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**Chapter 12: Leaving Home**

"So help me God, I am going to pull this truck over if you don't stop moving!"

Lyla closed her eyes, trying to sleep, which was difficult with a fidgety eight months pregnant woman sitting beside her and a rattling window on the other side. She wrapped her arms around herself, tugging her coat tighter; as they got closer to Texas, it was getting colder. There was some sort of low-pressure front or something sweeping through. "Both of you shut up," she mumbled. It went unnoticed. Becky was still moving, complaining that the baby was on her bladder and she needed to go to the bathroom again. She sighed when the truck switched lanes, rather jerky, as Tim took the first exit he could. "Tim," she complained, opening her eyes. "We're never going to make it to Texas if we keep stopping."

"Tell that to the pregnant lady," Tim complained.

Becky shrugged, her hands folded over her stomach. "I told you I have to stop a lot."

"I'm getting you a diaper."

"Ew! Gross! I'm pregnant, not a million years old."

Tim rolled his eyes, pulling his truck up into a gas station. "And duct tape for your mouth. You haven't shut up since we left Nashville yesterday."

Was that really yesterday? Lyla thought it was last week, that's how long it was taking them to get to Texas. They'd gone through Arkansas and were almost to the Texas border, but at this rate they wouldn't hit Dallas for two days. She shook her fingers through her hair, climbing out of the truck and walking to the bathroom. While Becky took her sweet time, Lyla moved quickly and swept through the gas station, getting snacks for the road so they wouldn't have to stop in a couple of hours for lunch.

She went back out to the truck; Tim was filling the tank. He was leaning against the back, his legs stretched out in front of him and his sunglasses on. He seemed lazy and bored. It was a good look on him, she thought, passing him a bottle of water. "Don't drink that too fast, because we are not going to stop," she warned him. "It's practically Christmas."

"December 20."

"I don't care, we have five days until Christmas and it's going to take us two to get to Dillon. I don't even want to stop tonight."

"Becky has to sleep," Tim said. He threw the bottle of water into the cab of the truck, glancing over his shoulder and chuckling. "You're regretting this."

"With every passing second," she drawled. She waited until Becky had returned, climbing up into the middle of the seat, lifting herself up to sit beside her. Tim ran out of the gas station after he realized she hadn't gotten chocolate milk and he really wanted chocolate milk. Who the hell is keeping us from getting there now, she thought, rolling her eyes when he climbed back in with a bottle of Nesquick. He turned the engine over, peeling out and back to the highway. The radio wasn't working, so it was basically Becky talking the entire time. Even if she put her headphones in to listen to music, Becky would still talk. It was maddening.

They drove for the rest of the day, Tim picking up speed once they crossed into Texas. They drove until well after sundown, Tim's eyes beginning to droop. "Pull over," Lyla mumbled. She nudged at him across Becky. "I'll drive. I got some sleep earlier." They really should have stopped to find a cheap motel, but she could practically taste Dillon they were so close.

He climbed into the passenger side while she took the driver's, having to reacquaint herself with the stick shift. "You can drive this, right?" he mumbled, already leaning his head against the window. Becky was leaning against him, still fast asleep, her hands folded over her stomach. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, closing his eyes.

Lyla smiled; he was already asleep. She could handle the stick shift, she wanted to say; I've driven your ass home enough times. She merged back onto the empty highway, driving in silence. It was quite peaceful. She cracked the window slightly; cool air blowing on her face, to keep her awake. She leaned against the headrest, smiling to herself. This was nice, driving at night.

"Nice, huh?"

She jumped slightly, her fingers tight on the wheel. She glanced sideways quickly, not wanting to take her eyes off the road for too long. Becky was awake, sitting up slightly, her dark eyes shining in the darkness, peering at her, rather intense. "Yeah," she murmured, keeping her voice down.

Becky seemed to read her mind, rolling her eyes and whispering. "Don't worry, Tim's fast asleep. I've been around him enough now that I know when he's awake or not, which is why…" She shifted a little, grimacing. "Ow."

"Are you okay?" It's never good when a pregnant woman says 'ow', Lyla thought. She didn't fancy having to deliver a baby on the side of a Texas highway at…she glanced at the dash clock. Two in the morning.

"I'm fine, it's just Braxton-Hicks and sometimes he kicks hard." She sighed, whispering. "I think he misses Luke, even if he doesn't know him. Sometimes he calms down when Tim talks to him. I don't want him thinking that Tim's his dad, but you know, could be worse I guess." She sighed, whispering. "Tim's been around this kid more than his own father."

I'm sorry, Lyla thought, swallowing hard. She shrugged a shoulder, whispering. "Tim's a really good guy Becky."

"He's different," Becky said automatically. She cleared her throat, keeping her voice soft, so it didn't wake Tim. She lifted her face, glancing at Lyla. Her forehead wrinkled, concerned. "Tim's like…he's like my brother but he's also like…I mean…I don't know how to say it, but he's kind of like…I don't know. A soulmate, maybe."

"Soulmate?" Lyla asked. That seemed like a strong word. She frowned slightly, whispering. "What do you mean?"

Becky shook her head, whispering. "Well you know…I kind of think there's more than one person out there for everyone. Sometimes that person is your soulmate for awhile and then they're not, because you find someone else. I was so madly in love with Tim, oh my God, you have no idea. I was jealous of you too, when you came back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You were so pretty and you had Tim and he was in love with you and you'd gotten out of Dillon." Becky sighed, whispering. "And then Tim went to jail and things changed. He came back and I didn't…didn't know him anymore and he was looking at me sometimes like all he wanted to do was jump me." She smiled quickly at Lyla's surprised look. "I mean, he'd been in jail a year, you know? And I'd kind of…blossomed, I suppose. Anyway, it was reverse. I didn't want him like that because, well, things had changed, but he's very…" Becky cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. "He's kind of like all in one for me. Brother, dad…I mean, I don't know how I could have done some things without him. I love Mindy, she's become like my mother. More than my mother ever was." Becky sighed again, still rambling. Lyla wasn't going to stop her, she was learning more about Tim in the last two years than she would from him. "Anyways," Becky continued. She swallowed hard. "Tim's been there for me." She was quiet for a few more minutes, rubbing the top of her stomach. After another minute, she mumbled, looking down. "I was pregnant…before."

Yes. Tim had mentioned something like that. Lyla nodded slightly, saying nothing while Becky spoke. "I was sixteen and…and I didn't know Luke at all, I mean, it was just a one-night thing and…" She closed her eyes, reaching to touch her forehead, breathing deep. She swallowed hard, leaning her head back to the window. "My mom was sixteen when she had me. I almost wish she didn't sometimes, but…anyways, I was sixteen, I was pregnant, and I went to Tim, because I knew he'd help me. He took me to Mrs. Taylor and…and it all worked out." She hiccuped. "I didn't have a baby, Luke didn't have to worry about taking care of us, and Tim…he was supportive through everything."

That sounded like Tim. He could be a flake from time to time, but he was loyal. She bit her lower lip, thinking of the few weeks of Jason in the hospital, his best friend hiding away. He could be loyal, but when it hurt too much, he broke completely in his own way. Hell, she'd broken then too. It wasn't like it was a common occurrence, your boyfriend becoming paralyzed. She nodded slightly, moving on from her memory. "Tim's a good guy," she repeated. It's almost all she could say in that moment.

That was so something he would d, she thought, smiling warmly. He'd go to Mrs. Taylor and he'd make sure that he was at least there for Becky. If he really loved her and cared for her, he'd do that. And he had. So he did. He still loved her. She smiled, glancing down at Becky's stomach. She removed her hand from the steering wheel, lightly touching. The baby kicked her. She chuckled, placing her had back on the steering wheel. "Strong."

"His dad is infantry, of course he's strong," she chuckled. Becky sighed. Her voice was faraway. "I told Luke about the baby on Skype. I mean, that's not how you tell someone they're going to be a father and…and it's been almost nine months. Tim's been there through everything. He even came to a couple of doctor's appointments, which is why…I guess it's why I kind of freaked out when he ran away. I mean, I thought he was fine and then he just left." She closed her eyes, whispering. "I thought he was fine again. He was kind of like his old self, until something happened and he wasn't. Like when he had the nightmare."

Tim mentioned something like that last week, Lyla thought; she was good at listening and Becky was good at talking, so she sat and drove, listening, while Becky talked, unprompted, explaining what happened to her. Every so often she'd glance sideways, catching Lyla's gaze. She'd look at Tim, to make sure he was asleep, which he was, barely breathing. "He was at home. I'd just gotten a job, I mean, I've had a job, but waitressing when you're pregnant and going to Dillon Tech isn't much of a job. Anyways, I got this job at the high school in the attendance office. They were going to give me benefits and pay and all this stuff and they didn't even care that I would be taking time off for the baby."

"So," she continued, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes. "I went over to his house and I didn't…didn't think. Tyra told me not to wake him up, just…just don't wake him up if he's sleeping because sometimes you don't know if he's actually having a nightmare…but…" Becky shook her head, mumbling. "I never woke him up before, I mean, there was once where he had a panic attack after we got out of an elevator and he almost hit me. I know he got pills for it and stuff, but I'd never been over there and actually woke him up. So he was sleeping and I put my hand on his shoulder and tried to shake him awake. He freaked. Knocked me backwards and I fell." She dropped her voice, turning her head to Lyla. "On my stomach."

Oh shit, Lyla thought, wanting to close her eyes; she kept them focused on the road, her chest hurting with agony for Tim at what he must have felt. She felt her breath catch in her throat, which began to constrict. "God," was all she was able to say.

"I was fine, but that didn't matter. I said he could take me to the doctor to make himself feel better, but he just got in his car and drove away. Mindy took me and it was all fine, but that didn't matter. He flipped out. He went to Billy, was yelling at him…he got in his truck and then, well…the rest is history."

I had no idea, Lyla thought. Surely there had to be a trigger, some event with Billy or someone in his life that would prompt him to just drive away. All he'd told her was that he'd had it. Well this seemed like it would be it. Not only did he think he almost hurt someone he loved very much, but he then put it on his issues from prison, which he blamed on Billy, which was his idea…which…it was just a cycle of emotion, one he couldn't seem to break from. "I don't know why he came to see me," she whispered. She draped her wrist over the steering wheel.

"I know," Becky whispered. She smiled. "Tyra helped him, but you know, she felt kind of guilty afterward, I know she did. She told me that she felt bad because he wanted more and she couldn't give it. She thought that a few weekends a semester would be enough, but Tim wanted more. I think the stability was good for him, but…she ended things at Thanksgiving. I think he kind of went off the deep end a little. He drank more, he fought with Billy more…and then a couple weeks ago was when he knocked me down. It was just a lot at once, a lot at once that he hadn't had since he got out of prison, you know?"

That still didn't explain why he came to me, Lyla thought. She shrugged, trying to smile, but it was just a frown. "Becky…I…I'm not Tyra, you know, I mean…I don't want to talk about her, but I mean, they knew each other…they were together…" I don't know what I'm trying to say. I really don't.

Becky chuckled. "He was such an asshole when he moved behind my house. I mean, not really, he was good and helpful, but something was missing. I never saw him happier until you came back for those couple of days. Then he went kind off spiraling out of control after you left, I think he really didn't know what he wanted in life…he bought the land and I thought things were going to look up for him. He said he was the happiest he'd been…" She sighed, her voice thickening. "Then it all went to hell, but…I think I know why he went to you now."

Can you tell me, because I sure as hell am still confused about it, Lyla thought; all it had done was confuse her more. She loved him so much, she wanted to help him, and she had, she hoped she had, but…it was so stupid. That night in the Bluebird, when they felt like a couple, actually smiling and laughing and enjoying each other; so much so that a freaking country music star had made a point of it. "Well could you let me know?" she tried to joke. She swallowed hard, whispering. "Because I'm a little curious."

"It's obvious." Again, not to me, Lyla thought. Becky shrugged, nonchalant. "He's still in love with you Lyla. You're like his soulmate, you know?" She shrugged, whispering. "I think he think he knew if he went to you that you wouldn't…I don't know you wouldn't freak out about things with him because you kind of already had. Like with the college thing. You'd be mad at him like you were with that, but you'd just…let it go or something." She shrugged at Lyla's sideways glare. "I figured it out over the years. It's not like he talks."

He might still be in love with me, but he knows that it's only ever going to be friendship. Lyla sighed through her nose, her nostrils flaring, slightly annoyed. If that was his reason, it was unfair to put on her, but he wouldn't realize that. He'd be a martyr; he'd suffer for her. She leaned against the door, propping her head up on her hand, still staring down the empty, black highway. "He should know better," she murmured.

"I think he does, but I think he just realized that you were the only person who wasn't going to force him to do anything. Talk about it or something. Maybe even he realized that you're the person who could actually help, because you'd left and you'd changed." Becky smiled again; it was kind annoying how direct she was. She didn't seem to care and just spoke her mind. "I didn't see him for like a week and a half but even I can see that around you he's different. He's gotten better. I don't think it's a miracle thing, you know, it's not like he's going to be around you for a week and every problem will be solved."

"That's not why I'm here, I'm not supposed to solve all his problems."

"No," Becky agreed. She leaned her head against Tim's shoulder; in his sleep, he moved against her, his arm wrapping back around her shoulders. She sighed, closing her eyes. "But you're helping him and that's what counts."

Lyla continued to stare out the window. She glanced sideways, to tell Becky that maybe she was making it worse, when she saw that Becky had fallen asleep. Both Tim and Becky were practically hugging each other in their sleep, Becky's stomach pressed against his knee. His hand had fallen to the side. She smiled. That was sweet.

She cleared her throat slightly, shifting in the seat. The long conversation with Becky had enlightened her, but at the same time it unnerved her. Tim was still in love with her; she could have figured that one out pretty easily. His mini-breakdown made sense, so much happening at once that he had to get out of the place where it was all happening. Go to the one person that would give him tough shit, wouldn't make him feel better in an instant. Kind of masochistic, she thought, thinking of how nasty she had been to him the first couple of days.

I hope like hell that the break helped, Lyla thought, glancing at a sign on the side of the road. "Dallas, only ten miles," she mumbled. It was about damn time. Only five hours to go to Dillon.


	13. Coming Home

**Chapter 13: Coming Home**

Lyla sat straight in her seat, her hands beneath her knees, nervously looking out over the dull colored Texas plains; it was colder than hell right now, frost coating the dry grass. The sky was a steely gray and clouds rumbled in the distance, signifying an incoming winter storm. She wondered if it might snow; that was such a rare occurrence out here but it had been known to happen. More than likely it would be an ice storm and the entire town would be coated with shiny ice in the morning.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see your dad first?" Tim asked, his voice trembling slightly; nervous. They'd dropped Becky off at her house, where she still lived with her mother, whom Tim scowled at when she came out to yell at Becky, who just ignored her and went inside. When Lyla had asked what that was about, Tim said that Becky's mother was a flaky bitch and didn't understand Becky at all. Thankfully she rarely spent time at the house.

She knew she should have gone by either her dad's condo or the bar, at least to see him, since she hadn't in months, not since Buddy had made a visit about six months ago to Nashville, but she wanted to see Tim's house. Buddy said she would stay with him, in her old room, now that her brother had vacated it to go to school at Texas Tech. He'd be back for Christmas, but he could sleep in the living room. That wasn't ideal; the condo was too small for all three of them. It wasn't even a size issue; it was a personality issue. Lyla would kill both Buddys by the time Christmas was over. She hadn't broken the news to him that she was going to stay at Tim's house. In a guest room of course.

"I'm sure," she answered. She wasn't sure she wanted to go into Dillon quite yet anyway; not like she was bound to run into many people she knew, but she still had to get used to being back. It wasn't like last time. It wasn't that homesick feeling being satisfied; only to feel like you were just…you'd outgrown it. It was more of an 'I can't stay long' type of feeling, otherwise you would grow accustomed to it again.

They came over a hill and she saw it; the house from Becky's picture. It was even more beautiful in person. It wasn't large; she didn't expect it to be, but she could tell that there were spots where he would probably add on in the future. "Oh Tim," she breathed, sitting farther in her seat, almost leaning on the dashboard as he pulled the truck into the drive. He climbed out, pushed open a gate, and got back into the truck, driving up to the side of the house, beside a side door. It had a porch, it had…oh it had everything, she sighed, climbing out of the truck.

Her legs stretched as she strode towards the porch, opening up the red front door; it was open, she didn't expect him to lock it, and went inside, finally seeing the interior. It was beautiful, she thought; very open and he'd painted the walls light yellow in the living room and the kitchen had brick backsplash around the sink and stove. There was hardwood throughout, rough hewn boards polished down.

She began to open doors; it would piss him off, but she didn't care, opening up a closet and then going down a hall, finding a washer and dryer in another closet. She stepped into a small bedroom, probably like an office, but it was absolutely empty. She went across the hall, to another room, with a set of bunk beds and a crib. For the kids, she thought idly, finding a bathroom beside that, with a full shower. She finally reached the end of the hall, pushing open the last door and stepping into the room. It took up from one half of the house to the other, with windows on three sides. It got all the views, she thought. She glanced sideways, beside the door, where there was a bed. It looked out one of the windows, so when you woke up, you could see everything.

It was a mess, she thought; clothes everywhere, the quilt on the floor and sheets tousled. It didn't matter, because it was clearly his little den. She smiled wide, glancing at a table in the corner, like a drafting table, with plans rolled up, tools scattered across it. "Did you design your own blueprints?" she asked, picking up one of the plans and unfurling it. Yes, he did. There it was, the outline of the house. How did he know how to do this? She glanced at him; leaning against the open door frame. "Tim this is very good. It's beautiful, I just…" She set the prints down, staring out the window, her hands on the sides. She laughed. This was…this was better than college, she thought.

He'd done it. He'd done something for himself. She hadn't realized; hell, did even he realize? You did it, she thought, turning around and walking towards him, rising on her toes and placing her hands on either side of his face; he still hadn't shaved his beard; it was beginning to grow on her. This was dangerous, so close to a bed, but Lyla had self-control. She pressed a kiss to his lips, breaking away a moment later, her eyes fluttering open. He hadn't moved, his arms still crossed over his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her forehead touching his. She sobbed; I feel stupid. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I pushed you," she said, lifting her eyes up to meet his again. She kept her hands on his face, staring straight at him. They'd kind of hinted around it last week, after he'd shown up at her house. "I pushed you, I didn't realize that you…I just wanted something for you Tim. I wanted to give you everything and…and I'm sorry. I kind of lost myself doing it and…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "I tried to put what I wanted on you and I'm sorry."

He slipped his arms around her, lifting her up so her toes touched the top of his feet. Lyla gripped him tightly, smiling into his neck. "You really like it?" he whispered.

"I don't have to like it," Lyla answered. She turned her face to his, kissing him again. Her voice was soft. "Only you have to like it Tim." She let go, falling to her feet again. It was gorgeous; this house. She rubbed at his arm, smiling up again. "You seem better." It was just being here, in Texas. Disappearing to another state would only help him so much, but he was Dillon. He'd said it himself.

Tim nodded, turning and leaving his room, wandering into the living room. He sank back into a La-Z-Boy, which she recognized from the old house. He pulled his feet up, draping his knees over the armrest, slouching back, fiddling with his fingers. He glanced out the window, whispering. "I feel a little better. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did."

They could fight on this forever, Lyla thought. She left him alone, going out to the truck to get her bags, carrying them into the room with the bunkbeds. This was going to be interesting, she thought, turning to sit back, but she cracked the back of her head on the top bunk. "Ow," she complained, rubbing at her head.

Tim laughed. She glanced up, seeing him standing in the doorway. "Nice," he chuckled. He nodded to the front door, still smiling. It was good to see him smile. "Do you want to come to the house? See the kids, maybe? Or I could just drop you off at your dad's."

He seemed so nervous, she thought, getting up from the bunkbed. She smiled, nodding. "I would love to see them." I also want to see Billy.

He read her mind, lifting an eyebrow, his voice quiet. "Don't say anything to Billy, Lyla. Just don't."

Can't promise I won't. She rolled her eyes. "I won't say much."

"Lyla."

"Fine, fine, fine." She picked up her bag, going out to the truck again. With one last look at the house, she smiled, eventually the smile turning to a full-toothy grin. "You should get a pet. Maybe a big goofy dog or something."

"I'll think about it."

"You won't get a dog."

"They're a lot of work. Plus, I think Becky is going to probably be hanging with the baby a lot over here."

"You think?" Lyla wondered how that would work; was Becky planning on moving in with Tim or something? What about Luke? She thought of her conversation with Becky that morning in the car, driving through Texas. It seemed Becky had a head on her shoulders and knew what she wanted. Maybe it wasn't what she really wanted deep down, because Lyla wasn't sure of many twenty-year olds that planned on being pregnant with their deployed Army boyfriend's child, stuck in their hometown, but she was handling it. She cleared her throat. "You think a baby at the house would be good?"

If you freaked out over Becky waking you up during a nightmare, I'd had to see what you'd be like with a newborn in the house. Tim shrugged. "How hard can it be?"

All right, he clearly was clueless. "I think saying something like that about a newborn shows you that it will be very hard," she said with a quick smile. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her voice quiet. "Is Luke going to miss the birth?"

Tim sighed. "He's going to try to be home. They might extend him again." He glanced sideways. "I don't know what Becky told you, but her mother is a pill. She's a flake; she comes and goes all the damn time. She didn't want Becky when she was born and Becky knew it. Tried pageants all her life to get out of Dillon and now she's stuck here."

Lyla shrugged, glancing out the window as they drove back into town. "She seems happy."

"She doesn't know any better."

I find it ironic that you want Becky to get out of Dillon, to have a life. Something bigger and she seems content to be here, Lyla thought, stealing a glance at Tim. It was exactly their situation. Just four years later. She shrugged, whispering. "I think Becky knows what she wants and she'll let you know it if it conflicts with her. I also think that bringing her into your home would be…" She smiled. "I think that would be very nice Tim. I just don't know if a newborn would be best for you."

"Stevie wasn't so bad for a few days."

"This would be all days Tim."

He didn't seem to care, not saying anything more on the topic, finally bringing the truck to a stop in front of the old house. For a moment, Lyla was going to ask if they'd moved, but then she saw the old Riggins house beneath the new siding, paint job, and landscaping. It was actually really nice, she thought, climbing out. There were children's toys scattered around the front yard, but it had shrubbery and a welcome flag and stones leading up to the front door, which had been repainted. She followed him up, nervous.

Tim walked into the house with a light knock. "Hello?" he called, soft. He stepped up inside, waiting for her to enter before he closed the door behind him. "Anyone home?"

"Uncle Tim!" A little boy rocketed out of what used to be his old bedroom, tackling him around his knees. He had dirty blond hair and at first glance, Lyla thought it was a mini-Tyra Collette, just by the little sneer on his face. He peered up, grinning and pointing to his bottom tooth. Or lack thereof. "I lost it!"

"How did you do that?"

"Football hit my face!"

"Ouch. Let me see again," Tim said, kneeling to Stevie's height, clicking his teeth together. Stevie did as he as told. Tim poked one of his top teeth. "I'll show you how to spit water from it later."

A curious expression crossed Stevie's face at the prospect of some new talent or game. "Okay!" He looked up at her, immediately becoming shy and hiding behind Tim's knees when he stood up. He looked up, whispering loudly. "Who is that?"

"That's Lyla Garrity." Lyla glanced at Mindy, who had come out of the bedroom and was holding a toddler on her hip; the little girl looking freshly bathed and with blond curls sticking up around her face. Mindy's face was empty of emotion. "Hello Garrity," she greeted her. "Fancy seeing you around here."

"Thank you," Lyla whispered. She glanced at Tim, who was scowling at Mindy. Stevie was still looking at her, curious. She cleared her throat. "Congratulations on the babies. Tim told me."

"Thank you." She sighed heavily, rotating her gaze to Tim, whispering. She looked relieved, even if she was trying to be stern. "We've been worried sick about you. Billy is going to be so happy you're home. He's at early morning practice at the football field with Sammy right now. He should be home…"

No sooner had Mindy started saying he would be home soon, did the door open behind them. Billy came inside, wearing a child on his chest in a Baby Bjorn. "Good God Mindy that team is going to win State this year…" He turned, staring at Tim. He sighed, his shoulders deflating. "Timmy. You're back!"

Tim's voice was quiet again. "I'm back," he said. He glanced at Lyla, gesturing. "You remember Garrity."

"Billy," Lyla drawled, her voice cool. She was glad he had an innocent kid near him. The urge to just start hitting him was pretty strong, but she tamped it down. She took in Tim's expression. He didn't seem openly angry or devastated at Billy's arrival. He also didn't have that sad, hopeless look about him. He had gotten a little bit better since he'd disappeared to Nashville.

Billy seemed to recognize the tension, removing Sammy from the bjorn and setting him in a playpen in the living room. He nudged Stevie towards it, glancing at Mindy, who seemed concerned. "We'll be fine, let's go outside."

It was freezing, but Lyla didn't complain, following Billy outside and onto a redone patio. The pool was covered and cleaned up, with a fence around it to likely keep out the kids. Billy leaned against the fence, crossing his arms over his chest. "You decided to come back for Christmas," he said, looking at Tim. He sighed. "Tyra's still in town. She's staying with Angela, helping with the kids. Just so you know, now that you brought back another ex." He scowled. "You going to bang this one too now Tim? Send her running away from her family because you put too much on her and she freaks out?"

Tim was about to protest, she could see it in his eyes and he opened his mouth, but she pushed at his chest. I can handle this myself. I'm also done with this shit. "Oh Billy shut the fuck up," Lyla snapped, seconds after Billy made his crude comment. She glared at him, repeating herself. "Just shut up."

Both Riggins brothers gaped. Tim was hiding a smile, after a second, while Billy just stared; stunned that he'd heard her swear. She didn't really care. She didn't want to hear his stuttering, thrown off guard by her loud curse. Or Tim's smile, which for all she knew, Billy hadn't seen in weeks. Or months. Or hell, years. She glared at him, her arms crossed and her fingers folded into fists, curling into her sides. "What?" Billy managed to gasp, a few cold minutes later.

Lyla arched a slim eyebrow. "Shut up," she repeated. She stepped towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest, growling. "You're a real swell brother Billy Riggins. Tim told me what happened. I don't want to go through history because you can't change it, but I wanted to see you, because I wanted to say to your face that you don't deserve a brother like Tim. I'm happy you got your act together, you have a lovely family, you've made this rathole into a home, and you have a good and honest job." She pushed hard at his shoulders, knocking into him, yelling. "But I can still hate you for what you did to my best friend!"

Billy scrambled for words. "Oh he's…" He rolled his eyes. "He's your best friend now Lyla? What is this high school? Seems to me you ran off from him the first chance you got! You always thought you were better than my brother!"

You little asshole she wanted to scream, taking a step towards Billy, fuming, but Tim stepped between them. "She is better than me," he said. He pressed his hand into her shoulder, forcing her a full step back from Billy. She'd felt another rush of anger and took another step to push at him. If she'd pushed as hard as she wanted, she'd knock him over the gate and into the pool. Which might have been her intention, she wasn't sure, she was too consumed with emotion. Tim glanced at her. "Garrity, breathe. Billy, shut up. Can I talk now?"

Fine, you can talk. I'm not stopping you. Lyla sulked, stepping back, still glaring at Billy. He shot her a look and then stuck out his tongue. She narrowed her eyes, scowling. Idiot. Tim rolled his eyes. "Billy," he said, his voice quiet. He shook his head. "I needed to get away and I did, so deal with that. You can't fix everything by building a house with me, okay? It was never going to get better in one month or week or night or whatever. I'm still really pissed off at you. For a lot of things you do, but…" he sighed, mumbling. "I don't hate you."

You never hated him; don't act like you did, Lyla thought. She glared at Billy again. What do you have to say to that, she wondered. Billy looked away, his hands on his hips. "Tim, I just want you to be okay," he whispered. He swallowed hard, nervous. "Especially because…because of it all."

You mean because it's your fault, Lyla wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut. For Tim. She glared at Billy; she wasn't going to believe him this quickly, but this wasn't about her liking Billy. She never had to like him again if she didn't want. This was Tim. Tim smiled, looking down at the ground. He glanced up. "I'm a little better Billy." He glanced at Lyla, smiling a little wider. "I think I know what I want to do. For a job. A real job."

Oh? Billy seemed as surprised as her. "Yeah?" he asked, chuckling. "What's that?"

"You'll see." Tim stepped back, glancing between the both of them. He waved his hand between the both of them too. "You guys need to make up now. Won't have my best friend and my brother hating each other. I'm going to give Stevie the guitar I bought him."

Lyla glanced at Billy; Tim went inside, closing the door behind him with a loud slam. She glared at Billy, now that they were alone. It took all she had to regulate her breathing and keep her words slow. After a few seconds, she calmed down, speaking the truth. Things Billy had to know. "Tim showed up on my doorstep and I thought that he was like a corpse," she whispered. She arched an eyebrow. "He didn't smile, he didn't laugh, and I didn't know who the hell he was, Billy. That's how different he was. You know that I've known him since we were in preschool. I didn't want him there, okay? I had moved on and there he was, back in my life." She took a deep breath, her forehead wrinkling. She sighed again. "Billy he is not going to get better in minutes. Maybe by now he should be better, but…"

"He was a lot worse, believe me," Billy mumbled. He shrugged, his voice soft. "He was angrier, Lyla. He got in more fights. Even after Tyra showed up and…and he'd been out for like a month or so, he was still angry. Then she left and he was better, but…yeah. He's not been the old Tim."

"He never will be," she whispered. She smiled quickly. "Just like you will never be the Billy who stripped cars to make a quick buck for his family. You'll do it honestly. We all learn from our mistakes. We get older. We grow up. Tim's just doing it in a very hard way." She turned around, to leave, but stopped, her eyes closing. She turned around and walked back to Billy, swinging her hand back and punching him in the nose. "Ow!" she shouted, shaking out her hand, gasping in pain. Shit! That fucking hurt!

"Son of a bitch! What was that for!?"

Lyla spun around again, glaring at him. "Do I have to spell it out or are you really that stupid Billy?" She pushed hard at his shoulders, almost growling. "That's for Tim." She stepped on his foot for good measure, her nose lifting in the air. "And that's for me."

Billy shook his head, glaring at her and holding his nose. She sniffed, her nose in the air again and stepped away from him, to go back into the house, feeling much better. "Hey Garrity," he called out. She stopped, but didn't turn around, listening to him. "If Tim freaked out this much because Tyra left him, he's going to really cave if you lead him on and leave him again. Just a warning."

Yeah, well, it's not like that anymore. Lyla shook her head, her back still turned to him and her voice dull. "Tim's a friend Billy. Give him some credit. He's just a friend. I'm just a friend." She kept going, entering the house again. Becky had showed up, sitting on the couch holding Ellie, who had a fat cardboard book out and was showing her pictures on it. Tim was kneeling with Stevie, inspecting something with a Lego Set, while Mindy did something in the kitchen with a whining Sammy. Lyla smiled quickly; this entire place was full of family. She swallowed hard. It'd be nice to have that sometimes, instead of avoiding it a lot of the time. She walked to the front door, leaving without saying a word.

She was about halfway down the street when Tim drove up beside her, his truck moving slowly. "Jay's in town," he called. "He just texted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She stopped at the corner, glancing down the way that would lead to her father's condo complex. The other direction was Jason's parents' house. She sighed, glancing at Tim. "Where's Erin?"

"Probably with Jason."

"I don't want to do a couple thing."

"Get in the damn truck Garrity."

She rolled her eyes, walking around and climbed into the truck, sitting silently for a moment. She had to let Claire know that she was back in town. Tim still hadn't put it back into gear, letting it idle at the corner. She glanced in his direction, whispering. "Billy loves you. Don't be too hard on him. I know it's difficult." She waited a beat, whispering. "I punched him."

Tim slammed his foot on the brake, the truck jerking to a stop with a loud screech. He stared at her, his mouth open. "And I missed it!?"

"Yes."

"Damn, I wanted to see that." He shook his head, smiling at her. "What if I paid you?"

"Get me angry enough at him again, you'll see it for free." She smiled, reaching over to squeeze his wrist, whispering. "They love you. All of them. You're very lucky Tim." She hid a yawn, shaking her head. "We should probably see my father before Jason." She pointed at him. "And take me back to the house. I have to clean up before we go see anyone for the day. It's still early enough that I need a nap."

Tim shrugged, turning the truck and rumbling down the street. "We'll go home and then we'll stop by your dad's bar. You haven't been there yet. I still work there from time to time."

That brought her back to what he'd said out by the pool, with Billy. She frowned. "What do you plan on doing? You said you thought you knew what you wanted, for a job."

"I have a job. I'm a bartender. Part-time builder. Part-time road crew."

A real job, she thought to clarify, but didn't. He wouldn't tell her, not until he was ready. If there was one thing Lyla had learned in the last week and a half, it was not to rush Tim. He would do fine on his own, he just hadn't realized it yet.


	14. The Family Room

**A/N:**Hope people are still keeping up with this! It's almost over, a few more chapters remain. Enjoy :)

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**Chapter 14: The Family Room**

I'm exhausted, Lyla thought, sitting at a table in her father's bar, smiling at something Erin said about Noah playing hockey instead of football, which was considered a communist sport in their house. She smiled, hiding a yawn behind her hand, looking up at her father, who was giving Tim an 'evil eye.' "Excuse me," she said, stepping up from the table.

Jason frowned at her. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, giving him a quick hug. It was so good to see him! It had been years. Pretty much since he'd left Dillon. She let go, weaving through tables and people; the bar was doing a good business, especially for so close to Christmas.

Or maybe because it was so close to Christmas, Lyla thought, overhearing two women complaining about their in-laws. Perhaps one of her father's business endeavors was finally paying off. He was attempting to franchise, since he'd already complained to her for the 100th time about her changing her decision to pursue business to occupational therapy. I can help people, Dad, she thought again, leaning against the polished oak bar. "Hey Daddy, can you please let go of Tim? We're trying to visit with some friends," she said, taking Tim by the elbow.

"I'm not doing anything with Tim, honey. By the way, why aren't you staying with your brother and I?" Buddy complained. He threw a rag down on the counter, scowling. "There's plenty of room."

Lyla stepped aside, not answering him. She helped Tim with the drinks, carrying them to the table, setting down Erin's club soda. She quirked her lip; Erin hadn't had a sip of alcohol all evening. She wondered if there was something that Erin and Jason planned on sharing; they had been a bit squirrelly all evening.

Tim took a long draw of his beer. He set it down with a clink, glancing at her. "More whiskey?"

"I like it," she said, grinning around the rim of her glass. Jason shook his head in disbelief. She laughed. "What? I told this one, it's a Tennessee thing. I was just being in Rome."

Erin smiled. "Do you like Tennessee? You know Jason; we should take a vacation or something, maybe do like a tour of the South. I think that'd be fun."

"Or sure, it'd be a blast." Jason was sarcastic.

"There's some cool Civil War battlefields in Tennessee," Lyla said, thinking of Noah. He might enjoy running through the cannons. She arched an eyebrow at Erin and Jason's stolen smiles. She glanced at Tim. He was oblivious, taking her glass of whiskey and taking a sip. She took it back from him. "Get your own."

"I don't want my own, I want a taste of yours."

"Drink your beer." She was trying not to be too…couple-like with him. It was like that night at the Bluebird all over again. They almost couldn't help it. They just knew each other too well and had fallen back into that same groove they'd been in four years ago. They were too comfortable with each other; especially after all they'd gone through the last two weeks. Lyla smiled knowingly at Jason. "So? Do you have something to share?"

Tim looked over his beer. "What? Share what?"

Jason and Erin shared another knowing look. She reached over, squeezing his hand. "Well, we told the family yesterday and we're going to tell Noah on Christmas…" She grinned wide, turning away from Jason to glance back at the both of them across the table. "After three and a half years of trying, Jason and I are having another baby."

"Planned this time," Jason immediately followed with, laughing as Erin leaned in to give him a kiss. He laughed. "We're having another kid!"

Lyla laughed, clapping her hands and immediately leaning over to hug and kiss both of them; Tim laughed, sharing one of his rare full-tooth smiles, giving Jason a man-hug and bumping fists, before he leaned over to give Erin a hug and kiss. "Congratulations!" she squealed. She grabbed hold of Tim, hugging him quickly for some reason. She smiled, feeling warmth down to her toes. What beautiful news for Christmas, she thought, reaching for her drink. "A toast! To the new Street baby! Hope she's happy and healthy!"

"He," Jason and Tim said at once.

Erin and Lyla exchanged a look. "Don't count on it," Erin said, clinking her club soda against their glasses. She jabbed Jason with her finger, in the ribs. "You get to choose, so it's your fault whatever we get."

"So long as the baby is healthy," Jason said, kissing her. They got all sappy, which Lyla found to be lovely. She glanced at Tim, who was also smiling. His eyes were still slightly shadowed, but they would be for awhile yet. He was happy though. He was with his best friend. Seeing his best friend happy; it's what he always wanted for Jason. She briefly wondered what Jason had thought of Tim going to jail; it wasn't worth bringing up in conversation. If it happened to come up later, so be it. Erin stood up, saying something about wanting to dance before her feet got too big again, reaching for Jason's hand as he wheeled himself out to the dance floor.

Tim glanced sideways at her. "You want?"

"Of course," Lyla laughed, taking his hand and standing up. She wrapped her arm around his neck, taking his hand into hers, giggling when he slung her backwards. He always started off their dances like that. She wrapped her leg around his waist to steady herself when he tilted her back up to her feet. "Nice."

"Still got it."

She gripped his hand, turning slowly so she could see Erin and Jason. They were so happy together. She was happy for them. She lifted her face to Tim, who had also been looking their way. "What are you thinking?" she murmured.

He shrugged. "Funny how things turn out is all."

"What do you mean by that?"

Tim looked down, his jaw set. He shrugged, keeping his voice quiet; she had to move closer to hear him over the music. It was a relatively quick song, so they were moving around, not stopping, but it was by no means slow-dancing. Thankfully. "Just…you know Jay was gonna' do all that stuff. NFL stuff and he…didn't, but…but I think he wouldn't switch, you know?"

I do know. Would it be nice to be an NFL-wife, going to parities, benefits, and having a ton of money with a house in the country and a penthouse in the city? Lyla wasn't sure she'd switch it for what she had now, which was working as a massage therapist to pay her rent, working her ass off to help children, and studying until her eyes bugged out of her head. She loved her life. She was happy in it. She looked up at Tim, who was staring off. She sighed, whispering. "Would you switch Tim?"

"Hmm?"

She repeated herself. "Would you switch? Would you switch what you have now with being the guy on the hunting ranch, stocking it with beer and ladies and taking Jason's one-percent? What did you say you were?" She felt her lip curve up; not being mean, just…she still remembered. "You said you were the caretaker."

Tim began to slow down, the music changing to a soft ballad. He tugged her closer, his eyes closing as she gripped his hand tighter, bringing it in closer to them. He swallowed hard, meeting her gaze again. "No," he whispered. He didn't smile, his voice still quiet. "I wouldn't switch it. I…I guess I know better now. Things aren't easy and…and I wouldn't switch it because…I'm still the caretaker." The smile was a ghost, flirting over his lips before it faded. His eyes softened. "You and Jason are happy."

We're happy which means you're happy. You're such a freaking martyr for us. "You're like a walking Jesus," she mumbled, more for herself than for him.

"Huh?"

"Stop suffering for others' sins," she whispered, letting go of his hand. She stood on the dance floor, crossing her arms over her chest. She was tired, irritable. It was a happy night for Jason and Erin, but right now she didn't want to talk with Tim anymore. It had been a long two weeks. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm going home."

"I drove."

"I'll find a way home. I'll hitch if I have to."

"So you're going to your dad's house, I take it? You're pissed at me."

I don't know, she thought, letting go of him. She grabbed her bag and jacket, looking over at Jason and Erin. They'd see each other later, but right now she wanted to breathe. She slipped out the back door, waiting a beat and walked around the side of the bar, shrugging into her jacket. She rounded the front, reaching for her cell phone to call her brother to come get her, when she bumped into Jason, who was hurriedly pushing his chair out of the front, rolling down the ramp. "Wait," he called. "Lyla, hold up."

"Jason, go back inside. I don't want to ruin your evening."

"You're not ruining my evening, I'm running…" He rolled his eyes at her arched eyebrow. "Figuratively. I'm running after you because I wanted to talk to you. I know you're going to be around for another week, but we're leaving the day after Christmas." He glanced back at the bar, his voice quiet. "Lyla, I know Tim went to Nashville to be with you. I know he freaked out and you helped him. I know it was the first time you'd seen him since jail…"

"And when did you see him?" Lyla interrupted. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at him, shaking her hair out of her eyes. "Because Jason I hadn't seen him since freshman year before jail and when he showed up on my doorstep…" She shuddered. He was still skinny, but his face had filled a little bit more. He still hadn't shaved his beard. She scowled. "Jason he was so sick. He was skinny and angry and he had nightmares. He wouldn't eat, he would only talk to me if I forced the issue on things, and quite frankly I wasn't sure what I was going to do to help him because I didn't want him there!" She jabbed a finger in the air at him. "So where were you Jason? He came to me because he wanted a friend, he wanted someone who loves him, but where were you?"

"I was raising my family!" Jason shouted. He laughed, harsh. "I was in New York City, working my ass off and providing for my family Lyla! I wasn't off in college having the time of my life, I was working and living my life and I didn't even know he was in jail until I came back for Christmas that year and your dad told me! My parents didn't even know!" He sounded just as angry as her. "And guess what Lyla? We're not Tim's caretakers! This isn't high school!"

"I know it's not high school but he's our best friend and he was always there!" She sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand. That's what it boiled down to and Jason knew it; she saw the look in his eyes, downcast and angry with himself. "He was always there," she cried. "He helped us, he…he went to Mexico to save you from almost killing yourself and he took you to New York and…and he helped me with my parents and with the bullying and he was the only one who ever saw the real me…" She sobbed, almost falling to her knees, her hand dropping to his shoulder. Jason reached up to tug on it, squeezing as best as he could. She cried. "Jason we weren't there."

Jason shook his head, whispering. "Lyla we can't always be there. How were we supposed to know?"

"I know," she cried, wiping at her eyes. She hiccupped. It was silly, but…but the feelings were there, now that she was seeing Jason after all this time. The guilt, so to speak. She knew Jason felt it too. Even if they had no choice. Jason was right. He couldn't drop all to take care of Tim and Tim knew it. She wasn't going to leave college…they just had to watch Tim hurt and that's what hurt the most. "I was so angry Jason. I pushed him completely out of my mind and he just showed up…I felt so stupid."

"You think I felt great knowing he was in jail? I thought it was my fault, you know? I wasn't there and…and we had our plans, but…" Jason closed his eyes, whispering. "Lyla we're not his caretaker and…and he has the house and he has Becky…" He frowned. "You've met Becky right?"

"Yeah."

Jason smiled quickly. "It's what he does, Lyla. He took care of Billy. He took care of us…maybe it's not fair that no one ever took care of him, but…but life isn't fair. He'll be fine…hell Becky's going to move in with him and bring her baby with her. He'll be all caretakered out after that."

Lyla laughed at the image of Tim surrounded by baby things and Becky…it was comical. She wiped at her eyes again, pursing her lips, nodding slightly. She released a long breath. "We love him, I guess being frustrated with him comes with the territory."

"It does." Jason shrugged again. "To be honest I'm surprised that he went to you. He usually never showed you all his pain."

"No, he didn't." Just now and then. She felt a little better now after that outburst. Felt a little better knowing Jason had been in the same boat as her. Devastated, guilty, and then ultimately pushing it from their minds because they couldn't always be there to take care of him. Lyla shook her hand through her hair, gesturing towards the bar. "You should go back to your pregnant wife. Daddy to be."

"Thanks." He reached his hands up and she took them into her hands, squeezing tight and leaning down to give him a hug and kiss. Jason whispered into her ear a moment later. "He's got his house, Lyla. Believe me, when you see him there for longer than a day; you'll realize that he'll be fine. I think he just needed a break."

He did, we've been through this. Lyla let go of Jason, whispering Merry Christmas and she'd see him later. She stepped aside, reaching back into her pocket for her phone, when she heard Tim calling her name. She glanced over her shoulder. He was holding his keys. "Come on, we'll go home," he said, walking to his truck.

"Can you drive?"

"I had half a beer."

Whatever, she thought, climbing into the car; she was two whiskeys deep and knew she wasn't in the right mind for much of anything. It was probably why she'd gotten so emotional. She ran her tongue over her teeth, looking out the window. "I've been up for almost twenty-four hours," she murmured. It was starting to hit her. The adrenaline, caffeine, alcohol, and constant movement of the day were fading.

I have put so much effort and energy into you. I swore to myself I wouldn't, but here I am, exhausted and back in Dillon, all because of you. She felt her eyes droop, only to open when he stopped the truck, helping her out and up to the house. She got a look at his bedroom before he was removing her shoes and coat, helping her into the bed and pulling the quilt up over her shoulders.

Thanks, she thought, feeling the last week and a half lift from her shoulders as she settled in for a long, long sleep.


	15. A Comfortable Place

**A/N:** I wanted to include Coach Taylor in this fic, but since it's all Lyla POV, it was hard to slip him into the story, but hopefully his appearance in this chapter is relatively in character. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 15: A Comfortable Place**

"What the hell are you doing?"

Lyla muscled in the Christmas tree, ignoring the scattering of pine needles through his house. She dropped it into the stand that she'd purchased and brought in earlier, fighting the tree trunk into the pegs. She kicked at it; huffing and puffing, sweat trickling into her eyes. It had warmed up and now she was getting a hell of a workout. "Come hold this damn thing."

"Are we getting a tree?" Becky wondered, making her way through a bag of Christmas peanut M&Ms, which she'd told Lyla earlier tasted better than regular ones. She tossed a green one in the air, catching it. She smiled. "That's really nice, Tim you need a Christmas tree. And lights! Ooh!" She began to list the things he needed, getting up from the couch.

Tim grunted from the other side of the tree. "Go get the damn things if you want them so badly."

"Tim hold the tree!" Lyla yelled, feeling the holder begin to tip. Becky said she was out of here, her keys jangling in her hands as she walked out, slamming the front door behind her. Lyla heard the door open again, thinking Becky probably forgot something, so she didn't think anything of it, trying to turn the spokes of the tree holder into the trunk. "Tim!" she yelled again, pushing at his ankle. "Hold the tree!"

"I am holding the tree! Hurry up it's heavy!"

"I'm getting pine needles down my back!"

"My arms are hurting!"

A soft drawl filled the room. "Well isn't this a hilarious picture, thank God for phones that can record now." Both of them straightened up. It was practically comical, Lyla thought, sliding her head out from beneath the tree, while Tim did the same, but from behind it. The tree thudded down in the stand and he stepped out completely, his hands going to his hips. Lyla peered out, staring at the pointed toes of Tyra Collette's cowboy boots. She slowly lifted her face, meeting Tyra's amused gaze.

"Tyra," she said.

"Lyla."

Tim looked ready to run for the hills; grow a set, she thought, shooting him a glare when he stepped carefully towards the French doors. She glanced at Tyra again, crossing her arms over her chest. "What a nice surprise," she said, smiling warmly; it was a surprise and it was relatively nice. She hadn't seen Tyra in years; moving out of Dillon seemed to have done Tyra well. Her hair was a dark brown, almost red color, poker straight and falling below her shoulders. She seemed dressed slightly more conservatively, even if her t-shirt still was low-cut. It at least had a back, Lyla thought.

"As it is to see you," Tyra drawled. She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at Tim. The keys to her car dangled on the ring over her finger. She arched an eyebrow at him. "How are you doing?"

Tim's voice was quiet. "Fine." He's nervous; deal with it. Lyla glanced away from him to Tyra again. He cleared his throat. "Back in town."

"I know, I came back after you left for Tennessee. Thought maybe I'd help out if you decided to return, but…I had to get back to school for exams." Tyra smiled quickly at Lyla. "Thought you were still in school Garrity or did a smarty-pants like you graduate early?"

"I'm in a double program, I graduate with a Bachelor's this year, but a Master's next year," she murmured. She shrugged again, figuring that if Tyra could dig a little at her, she'd dig a little at Tyra. "I advanced early, I'll be in a separate Master's program beginning next year. Two at once." She quirked her lip, whispering. "That's two Master's degrees and a Bachelor's in six years when all is said and done."

The other woman just smiled, turning her attention to Tim again. Her forehead wrinkled slightly, concerned. She ran her tongue over her teeth, swallowing and shifting her weight on her heels. "Mindy said that you came back the other day. I thought you might call."

"You didn't want to talk to me," Tim mumbled. He shot a glance at Lyla; it clearly said 'get me out of here.' Nope buddy, sorry about that, you have to deal with the mess you left behind. It's part of growing up and you know that. She stepped away from both of them, walking back outside to a car she borrowed from her dad, retrieving the ornaments and decorations she'd managed to find in his storage unit. He hadn't put up a tree since the divorce and her mother had pretty much left everything and run after she married Kevin.

I have to call her and let her know I'm back here, I keep forgetting, Lyla thought, bringing the ornaments and boxes into the house. She stole a glance at Tyra and Tim, outside on the porch, talking quietly. Their body language told her that nothing was going on. There wasn't anything close or intimate about how they were standing, not like how she and Tim often found themselves. It wasn't aggressive either, so they weren't fighting. They were friends. She met Tim's gaze through the window and he took a very obvious step away from Tyra. She smiled; when they were dating and Tyra happened to be around the both of them, he'd do the same thing. It was hilarious. She…well she trusted him, she knew Tyra wasn't going to go there again, but he clearly wanted her to think he wasn't doing anything. Lyla let him. At least he was aware of it.

Lyla began to hang ornaments, hoping Becky returned soon with lights, because she didn't have any of those. She looked up when the door opened again, Tyra stepping inside. "Well," Tyra said, clicking her boot heels on the hardwood floor, swiveling to face him. "I've heard all I needed to hear. I'm going to go back to the house, I have to watch the kids tonight while Billy and Mindy go to church."

That had Lyla's head lifting. "Billy goes to church?" she blurted out. Even Tim looked confused.

Tyra waved her hand, dismissing their concern. "He has to put on the football coach airs or something. The kids are too little and he needs to go for some sort of thing, because all the Boosters will be there, I don't know, but if you want to come over, three kids and I will be watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time."

"Thanks," Tim said. He glanced at Lyla. "What are you doing tonight?"

"I'll be going to church," she said. She did it every year, if she happened to be around one. She went to Christmas Eve services at night, watched the Nativity pageant that most churches put on, and then she went back to wherever she happened to be. It was her own little service. She smiled at him. "You can come you know."

"Tim go to church?" Tyra laughed. "Yeah right, not in a million years."

Oh he went for a while, Lyla thought, thinking of when he attended her megachurch. Much of it was designed solely to manipulate and wear her down, but she also thought, later on, that part of it was a real desire to be included in something. He'd been kind of lost. More lost than her that year. Tim looked back to Tyra. "Bring the kids here," he said, his voice a little stronger than it had been a moment before. She frowned. "It'll be fine, bring them here. Becky is going to stay anyway."

"She is?" Lyla asked, frowning. Not that there was a problem with that, but she wondered where Becky was going to sleep.

Tim nodded. "Her mom ran off yesterday to Dallas for Christmas, so she said screw it. She'll be here." He blinked at Lyla's frown. "She'll sleep in the bottom bunk, you take the top."

"You guys aren't sleeping together?" Tyra blurted out. They both turned slowly to her; what the hell, Lyla thought. Tyra didn't seem embarrassed or bothered by her question. She shrugged. "Honest question. I thought you guys were together, Mindy said you were…you're not?" Now she looked genuinely confused. She shrugged. "Okay, whatever."

Whatever? Lyla cleared her throat awkwardly. "Okay," she said. She glanced at the tree and then to Tim, who was frowning at Tyra. He actually looked like he wanted to kill her. She wondered how much this might set him back. It was okay though, because Tyra excused herself and said she'd bring the kids over later, so Tim just showed her to the door. Lyla went into the kitchen, checking the fridge to make sure she had cookie dough; if the kids were coming over later, maybe they could make cookies and decorate them. It was a tradition she always loved when she was growing up.

Tim appeared in the doorway. "Sorry about…her." He shifted his weight, whispering. "I didn't know she was going to come over."

"Don't be sorry. How are you?" Lyla wanted to make sure Tyra's appearance wouldn't send him to a bottle or something. She was part of his little mini-breakdown, after all. She walked over to the sink, to wash sap from the tree off her hands.

"Fine. Why?"

I don't know, just asking, geez. She turned off the water and turned back around, shrugging again. "I just thought Tyra here, I don't know, you might be upset or something." She sighed at his narrow-eyed look. "Forget it Tim, I just thought I'd ask how you were. If you're fine, that's fine." She tossed her hair out of her eyes. "Do you want to come to church with me tonight? I think it might be good for you."

He shook his head, frowning. "No…not my thing."

"Fine." Lyla looked up when the front door opened and closed again. Becky emerged, holding a bag of stuff. She frowned. "You found Christmas decorations on Christmas Eve?"

"Well, sort of," Becky said, removing orange Halloween lights. They were shaped like pumpkins. She smiled, draping them around Tim's neck. She hit a button and they lit up, flashing orange. He scowled. She grinned. "I think they look cute on you. You know I'm spending the night, right?"

"Yes," he growled.

Becky kissed his cheek. "Thank you." She smiled wide at Lyla. "I talked to Luke this morning, he's going to call tonight when he's done with something…he can't talk about where he is. Security stuff." She seemed sad, her normally bubbly smile fading. She shrugged. "It's okay." Her hand went to her stomach. Lyla had begun to notice that she did that when she was feeling sad or nervous. It was like it comforted her. Maybe it did, Lyla didn't know, as she had never been pregnant.

She smiled, whispering. "You want to come with me to church?"

"Ah…probably not the best. Given my history with some of the people there," she said, laughing nervously. She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head and patted Tim's chest. "I'm going to take a nap, I just got really tired. Sorry I'm kicking you out of your bed Lyla."

"It's fine," Lyla said. She looked at Tim again, who was watching Becky as she left. She smiled. "So have you given any more thought to her moving in with you after the baby is born? Think that will be a good idea?" Because I certainly don't. Not that my opinion means much.

He shrugged again, his voice quiet as he sifted through Becky's hodge podge Christmas decorations. He took the pumpkin lights, carrying them to the tree she'd managed to find, draping them around the top. He picked out a star from one of the bags, setting it on top. He turned around, his voice quiet and face serious; it reminded her of when he'd first come to Nashville. "She needs a home and…and I guess I just want someone here."

"Tim…" Lyla sighed. She swallowed nervously. "Tim, Becky told me that she woke you up and freaked you out. That, that was part of why you left…"

"She told you that?" Tim asked, interrupting. He scowled, his voice hardening, rising slightly. "When did she tell you that?"

Damnit. I don't want to get Becky into…Lyla shook her head, shrugging and smiling quickly. "What's it…"

"What did she tell you about me leaving?" Tim continued, his voice rising; something was making him angry. "Because it wasn't Becky. It wasn't anyone but me, Garrity. It was me, I left because of me, because I wanted to go, I told you, I told you that I wanted a break and Dillon was…"

"Fine!" Lyla shouted, throwing her arms in the air. "You said that you were thinking Dillon was bad, that bad stuff was happening and don't get mad at Becky, she was just talking to me about you because I asked." That was a lie, but she didn't want Tim to turn any sort of anger on Becky or take it out on her. She loved him; Lyla loved that she loved him and she wanted to help him. That's all she was trying to do. She laughed, her eyes closing. "I can't do this Tim! I just can't, I've let you stay with me, I let you come into my life and I showed you the best part of my life, I let you see my group therapy…I just…" She laughed. Stupid. I'm stupid. It was just…it was one thing to have him in Nashville, out of his element. He was getting better; he was a bit easier here in Dillon. Happier. Going out with Jason the other night had been fun; he'd been smiling and laughing. Then yes, there were moments like today, where he had been a bit of an ass, sulky and moody. Tyra shows up and now he's being an asshole again, I should have seen it.

I'm getting out of here. "Don't get mad at me, Tim. I disrupted my life for you and the least you could do is just tell me why you left Dillon and don't give met his whole, it was bad for me, because Becky just told me a reason why she thought you left and if that wasn't it and Billy wasn't it and Tyra wasn't it, then you need to figure it out, because there is a reason and I'm done helping you figure it out, I said I wasn't even going to care anyway!" Lyla yelled, jamming her arms into her coat. She grabbed her bag and the car keys.

"Where the hell are you going?" Tim called.

"Church!" she screamed, slamming the door behind her. She stormed to her car and climbed in, driving off the homestead and turning to town. Idiot, she thought. She wasn't sure if she meant herself or him. He really had to figure out why he left. Maybe if he had an actual answer, life would be better. She picked up her phone, calling Jason and leaving a message saying that she and Tim got in a fight, so she wasn't sure they'd see him that evening, but that the kids would be at the house if he wanted to bring Noah over later. Stevie was about his age. And that she was going to church.

It was a little early for services, so she stopped at her father's condo, where her brother was sitting with one of his friends, Hastings something, playing video games. "Where's Dad?" she asked, leaning on the back of the couch, trying to follow the stupid guys on the television screen blowing each other's brains out with submachine guns. She scowled when blood spattered the screen. "That's…lifelike."

"It's a game," Bud, as he wanted to be called now, said. He didn't break his eyes from the screen. "I don't know."

"Don't know what?" Hastings asked. He whooped when brains flew across the screen again. "Eat it! I win again!"

"Shit Lyla, you're breaking my concentration!"

I'm just ruining everyone's lives today, she thought, slapping her brother upside the head. "Idiot," she scowled.

"Damn, that hurt. I'm not your boyfriend. You can't hit me."

"Who says I have a boyfriend?" she asked, stealing a bottle of water from the fridge. She scowled at her brother. It must have been going around town. Probably no thanks to him. She shook her head at his frown. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Thought you were banging Riggins," Hastings said.

Lyla scowled. "Excuse me, friend of my brother whom I don't even know, but watch your language."

"Sorry." He didn't seem sorry. He frowned slightly at Bud. "Wait, I thought he was with Luke's chick? She's gonna' live with him, right?"

"No, Luke's coming back soon, but she's going to live there until he comes back." Bud looked up. "Hey Lyla, can you go get us some more chips? We ran out and Tinker's coming over in a few minutes."

"I'm not your maid and who is Tinker?"

"Friend," they both said at once.

Well, no, I am not going to go get you food and I don't feel like listening to Dumb and Dumber gossip about Dillon. It was time for early service anyway, so Lyla left, driving over to church. It was growing dark, which was nice. The air was crisper and she could smell ice in the air. She stepped into the church; thankful she was wearing something appropriate. Black jeans over black ankle boots and a long-sleeved red button-down. She nervously brushed her fingers through her hair, hoping there were no pine needles.

She sat down in one of the back pews, tucking her coat and bag between herself and the pew. Everyone was still filing in, people saying hello and greeting each other. She turned a page in the program, reviewing the songlist. It was just like when she was little, she thought, quirking her lip; the same songs and sermon, but that was comforting to her. Christmas was a time for comfort, she thought, sighing. She had to go back to Nashville soon. New Year's Eve was the date of her ticket back. That was still so long, she thought, looking up when the lights dimmed. Her eyes closed, praying for guidance. When she opened them, she felt someone slide in to sit beside her. "Sorry," she heard a quiet voice say when he nudged against her.

Lyla turned, to say it was okay, when she pulled back, surprised. "Coach," she said, her voice quiet. She chuckled, looking around the church quickly. She spotted Mrs. Taylor, Matt, Julie, and Mrs. Saracen in the front pew. Billy and Mindy were sitting beside them, with her father trying to talk to Tami. Lyla glanced sideways again. She laughed. "Coach Taylor."

Eric smiled quickly at her. "Sorry, it started and I didn't want to make a scene running up there while the pastor was speaking." He held his phone up. "Had to take a call." His smile broke, warm and polite. "How are you Lyla?"

She blinked; how am I? Had anyone asked her that in the last few weeks? She hesitated and then she covered her mouth quickly, tears filling. She jumped up, running out, turning in the hall to lean against the wall. Oh God, she thought, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her sobs. It was just…like a waterfall. She hiccuped, turning and seeing Coach Taylor walking towards her, concerned. "I'm sorry," she cried, holding up her hand. "It's…you asked how I was…I just…"

He sighed, looking a little unsure of himself, turning slightly and glancing back at the door to the chapel. Obviously he doesn't want to deal with my mess, she thought, wiping at her eyes, trying to urge him to return to the service, but she just cried again. Stupid, she thought again. I'm so stupid. Until she felt arms going around her and looked up, surprised again. Eric was carefully guiding her away from the wall towards the small chapel where they held small weddings and baptisms. It was empty, but candles were lit around the altar, with a miniature Nativity scene. He helped her to the front and sat her down in the front pew, sitting beside her. Eric sighed, patting her shoulder, a little clumsy. "My wife is better at this than me, but…I don't think you should go back in there and I don't think you should be alone, so rather than upset the service going to get her, we'll wait for a break."

I don't know you, she thought, glancing sideways at him. Eric always was close with Jason, with Tim, and all the others. Not her. She had no reason to be close with him, she was a cheerleader for a few months and then that was it. Although she knew that her father still spoke with him, even after they'd moved to Pennsylvania. Lyla wiped at her eyes, whispering. "You don't have to do this," she breathed. She chuckled. "You barely know me."

He turned to look at her, shrugging, his soft Texas drawl still apparent, even after being gone for the last couple years. Eric smiled, slow. Polite. "It's Christmas Lyla. You shouldn't be sad at Christmas." He hesitated. "Do you…do you want to talk?"

She shook her head, staring at the Nativity scene. Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus. It was her favorite story. She once put on her own play, for her parents, when she was little and sick on Christmas Eve. She couldn't go to church, because they didn't want her to get the others sick. Chicken pox, she remembered. I got it from Tim. At school she'd yelled at him, said he ruined her Christmas because he got her sick when they were playing together on the swings. Lyla didn't want to talk; she was so tired of talking. "No thank you Coach Taylor," she murmured, keeping her eyes on the scene. She closed her eyes, whispering. "But thank you for sitting here with me. It's very kind of you."

"Well you just got so upset…I just asked how you were."

She chuckled, shaking her head and whispering. "That's what's so kind. You asked how I was." She glanced his direction. "It's been a very hard two weeks Coach Taylor."

Eric smiled briefly. He hesitated again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tim Riggins doesn't have anything to do with this does he?"

"How did you know?" she murmured, glancing sideways. Was it written all over her face or something?

He sighed. "Just...experience, I guess. Your dad mentioned it earlier that he'd gone to see you." He leaned around a little, studying her for a moment. "So...is he the problem?"

She pursed her lips, waiting a beat. She finally laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and slumping down in the pew. "Oh Coach Taylor, you have no idea."

"I think I have some idea, if you want to talk. I'll be here. Until I can get my wife," he teased.

No, that won't be necessary. I don't need to talk to Mrs. Taylor, although that might be nice. I just...she sighed. Lyla didn't speak; she stared at the Nativity and listened to the muffled singing coming from the main chapel, while Coach Taylor kept her company. It was actually very nice, she thought, closing her eyes, lulled into a comfortable silence.


	16. Sitting High

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! No Gracie in this fic, but there is a one-shot I'm working on with Gracie as the main character. I've also begun the sequel to this one. Anyways, enjoy :)

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**Chapter 16: Sitting High**

Once the chapel let out for a break, before the Sunday school classes formed their Nativity scene and the children's choir sang, Lyla returned to the pew in the back, feeling a little bit better. She'd sat in almost pure silence with Coach Taylor; it had been so peaceful, just looking at the Nativity, which she loved, and listening to the sounds of the singing from the other room. She'd been able to decompress. Now…now with everyone else…she got up, moving around and to the doors leading to the organ upstairs. No one knew the secret back way the way she did; she'd practically grown up in this church. She snuck up the side stairs, taking a seat at the top; now she was really alone.

The pastor began to speak, bringing in the children's choir. It was so pure, she thought, closing her eyes and exhaling. She listened to them singing, her mind drifting again. I need this, she thought again. Just for me. This is just for me. Beneath her feet, she heard the stairs creak and her eyes slowly opened, glancing sideways. Tim appeared beside her. He sat down next to her on the step, silent, looking out over the chapel, seeing the tops of everyone's heads. He leaned forward over his knees, listening to them singing 'Oh Come All Ye' Faithful.'

"What are you doing here?" she murmured, still staring at the people below.

"I thought you might be here when you weren't down there…Coach Taylor said you were pretty down," Tim whispered. He swallowed hard. "I know you hid up here…by the organ." She didn't say anything. What was he doing here? He leaned towards her. "Are you mad at me?"

Am I mad at you? I'm frustrated by you. She shook her head, whispering. "I just don't understand why you're here." He didn't say anything. They sat quietly, listening to the singing. It calmed her some more. It seemed to calm him too, she thought, glancing quickly at his expression. She couldn't read it. She returned to the altar, watching the kids. They were so good. She sighed, whispering. "Tim what are you doing here?"

He leaned back against the wall, folding his hands between his knees. The song ended and the children began to sing 'It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.' "I like this song," he mumbled, his eyes closed. He smiled when she frowned, surprised. He opened his eyes, meeting hers. "I thought you might be up here and I wanted to come because I wanted to be with you. Is that wrong? I can go."

Don't go. Please don't go. She moved towards him, leaning her head against his shoulder, her arms going around him. He hugged her tight, still watching from their hiding place in the stairs. She smiled, whispering. "Coach Taylor helped me out a bit."

"He's good at that."

"I'll have to thank him. I think I scared him, I started crying."

"That'll probably do it. Guys don't like when girls cry." He wiped his thumb over her cheek, dragging some tears with it. His voice softened again. "Especially you Garrity." He waited another moment, turning to look at her, whispering. "I also just…wanted to see if I felt what you felt."

And do you, she wondered, turning her face away to look back at the choir. She watched and listened, smiling as the children filed in to form the Nativity, the pastor narrating and each child coming up to say their part. Lyla wiped at her eyes, wrapping her arms tighter around his arm, her chin on his shoulder. "I love this," she murmured, as the kids all took their bows. She smiled, whispering. "It's my favorite part of Christmas."

"I wanted to see you."

Hmm? She tore her gaze from the altar, looking up at him. "What?" she whispered, her forehead wrinkling. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the altar, but he seemed tense. A moment ago he was relaxed, smiling and enjoying this with her.

He nodded, finally looking down at her again. "I wanted to see you," he murmured. He smiled a little. "I…I really did leave Dillon because I couldn't…because things were bad, I told you the truth. It was bad. Billy, Tyra, and yes even Becky, it all got bad and all at once, but…but I got to Dallas after driving and I was going to turn around and come back, because…I don't leave you know, I just…" He finally looked away, looking down at the altar, whispering. "I just thought…I wanted to see you, believe it or not. I hadn't talked to you in years…I was only like a day and a half away….and I wanted to be near someone who I thought would make me feel a little better." Tim finally looked down at her, smiling. It met his eyes, which crinkled slightly in the corners. His voice was clear. "You did Garrity. You really did make it better. Not perfect, but…better."

She smiled. That was…she felt the tears coming back, welling in the corners of her eyes again. "I know it's never going to be perfect. I won't be, until you just…well it won't ever be Tim. Besides, I only was there, you were the one that did everything." She turned his face towards her, kissing him lightly. After a moment, she brushed her hand over his jaw and stood, collecting herself and sneaking back down the staircase. He emerged a moment later and they left, driving separately back home. Before she left, she made sure to go over and give Coach Taylor a big hug. He didn't realize but just sitting there with her actually made things clearer.

She went to her car, gave her father a hug and kiss, saying she'd see him tomorrow. The drive to Tim's was nice and she savored the quiet, because when she went up into his house, there were three little kids all hopped on sugar, with Tyra trying to calm them down and Becky sitting in Tim's La-Z-Boy, having a hormonal moment, crying as the Grinch's heart grew three sizes too big, eating cookie dough. Tim came in a moment later; to Lyla's surprise, he dealt with everything smoothly, getting the kids out of the house into Tyra's car, taking the cookie dough from Becky and changing the Grinch to Charlie Brown, which had Becky smiling and laughing a moment later.

"You're good at this," Lyla laughed, when they were seated on the couch. Becky was in the bedroom, asleep. It was almost midnight. It seemed to have gone so quickly, she thought, curled in the corner of the couch.

"Good at what?" Tim asked. He dug his fingers into the side of the couch, frowning slightly. "I think there's candy stuck to this."

"You had a four-year old and two two-year olds running around. There's probably candy on the ceiling." He nodded idly, looking away, out the window. The tree had been decorated at some point, with actual lights and ornaments, even though the pumpkin lights were still wrapped around the top of the tree. It was lovely, she thought, sitting in the darkness with the tree lit up and some candles on the mantle of the unfinished fireplace. Better…she sighed. Better go before something happened that shouldn't happen. Lyla pursed her lips, getting up and walking over to him. She leaned down, kissing his cheek. "I'm going to bed. Merry Christmas Tim."

He smiled, whispering. "Merry Christmas Lyla."

She let go of his fingers, turning and walking into the spare bedroom. She changed into pajamas, ignoring Becky's snoring and crawled into the top bunk. It was too damn close to the ceiling, she thought, feeling like it was caving in on her. She turned a few times, but couldn't get comfortable. What else was there for her now? She lay awake, her eyes open.

Tim was doing so much better than a few weeks ago. He still had a ways to go, but he was happier. Becky would move in with him, which she thought wasn't the best of ideas, but he still had about a month and a half before he came to his sense, which he probably would. The house still had to be finished. Jason and him were talking again. Coach Taylor was back in town, so she was sure Tim would be happy and would see him. It was his relationship with Billy that still would take time, but she trusted that it would all end up okay.

She closed her eyes, turning a few more times. Okay. I can't…I can't do this anymore. She was frustrated. It wasn't going to hurt anything. They were adults. They could do this. Damnit, she thought, throwing off the X-Man blanket and crawled from the top, twisting her ankle as she came to the ground. She cursed softly, tip-toeing-slash-hobbling from the bedroom and across the hall into Tim's room. He was in bed, the blinds open and the contrast in the darkness of the bedroom and the outside startling to her, especially since it was lightly snowing. Or raining, she thought. It was actually nice.

And very cold, she realized, shivering as she crawled into the bed beside Tim. He turned, mumbling. "Lyla?" He rubbed at his eyes. "What're you…"

"Shh," she whispered, reaching her hand to his cheek, drawing him towards her in a long kiss. She sighed, when he broke the kiss a moment later. "That was it," she warned. She turned into him, hugging tightly. "Go to sleep."

"This isn't my Christmas gift, is it?"

"No," she chuckled. She hugged him tighter, smiling into his shoulder. It would all work out. She mumbled into his chest a moment later. "Your gift is me not killing you for the last two weeks."

Tim sighed, rolling over. She kicked him. He rolled back. "Just what I always wanted," he murmured. Lyla remained awake for about an hour after she climbed into the bed with him. She finally fell asleep and when she woke up, he was still with her and he hadn't moved the entire night. Just like old times, she thought, spying the pill bottles on his dresser across the room. He hadn't had any in weeks, he told her the other day.

And it seems like you won't need them for the foreseeable future, hopefully ever, she thought, closing her eyes, intending to sleep some more, but Becky walked into the room, saying that it was time, they had to go over to Billy and Mindy's to open presents. Becky scowled down at them, her hands on her hips. "And I thought you weren't sleeping together?"

"Go away," Tim mumbled, his head beneath a pillow. He waited until she closed the door, scowling, rolling onto his side. "Maybe bringing her here with a baby isn't a good idea."

I hoped you come to that decision at some point, Lyla thought, rolling over with him, and tucking her head beneath his arm. "Five more minutes," she murmured, kissing his collarbone. She sighed. This was not how she envisioned Christmas beginning. Not that she thought she'd be in Tim's house, in his bed, after having not slept together, despite the fact that they were sleeping together, and his pregnant little-sister-not-friend-whatever in the kitchen banging pots and pans together. She sat up, climbing from the bed and wandering out into the kitchen, Tim behind her. He'd at least thought to put a sweatshirt on over his pajama pants, instead of choosing to go shirtless. She took the teakettle for him, running water beneath it and set it on the stove to boil, while he put together coffee for her.

Becky looked up from her bowl of cereal at knocking coming from the front door. "Who is it?" she wondered, sliding off the stool. She frowned. "We're supposed to go over to the house, they're not coming here."

"I don't know, stop asking me and go find out," Tim said, stealing her bowl. He took a large spoonful of Lucky Charms, chewing. He was trying not to smile. Lyla narrowed her eyes; what did he do? He winked at her and smiled again, setting the bowl down when Becky screamed from the front door and the screams turned to sobbing. Oh my God, what the…she stared at him again. He was still smiling. He didn't, she thought, her lip curving…she laughed and peered around the kitchen wall, her eyes widening and she began to laugh again, seeing Becky jumping, all eight-months pregnant of her, into the arms of a guy wearing Army fatigues, knocking off his cover as she kissed him, spinning around on the porch. She turned to look at Tim, who was just smiling. "What did you do?" she laughed.

Tim's eyes sparkled. "I called someone I know." He shrugged, his voice soft. "I knew him in jail. His brother was in the Army. He made some calls and…got Luke on an earlier transport home." She just stared at him, smiling. He rolled his eyes and scowled. "Don't make a big deal. Becky's terrible to buy for and she can't take this present back."

No, I don't think she'd want to, Lyla thought, smiling as Becky and Luke laughed and grinned from the porch, Luke's eyes wide and his hands on her stomach, laughing. She looked over her shoulder, Tim eating more Lucky Charms and walking not the living room, waving at Luke before he fell backwards into his chair, turning on the television. She walked over and kissed the top of his head, her arms going around his shoulders. "You're a good man Tim Riggins," she whispered. "Don't let anyone ever make you think otherwise, no matter what you did or didn't do. Do you understand?"

"Don't make a big deal," he mumbled, focused on the TV. I'll make a big deal if I want to make a big deal, she thought, kissing him again and swiped her phone from beside him to call her father, mother, and Claire in that order.


	17. Knock on the Door

**A/N:**I'm going to finish up this fic in the next couple days because there's only a couple of chapters left and I will be going out of town and won't bring my computer. Anyways, enjoy and thanks for the reviews :)

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**Chapter 17: Knock on the Door**

"So when will you be back in Nashville?" Claire asked, her voice kind of muffled; Lyla knew she was hiding from her mother, who was attempting to get Claire to admit that she really didn't want to go into biomedical research stuff and really wanted to settle down and have kids. She sighed. "Because I have to get my books for next semester used before they sell out, so I'm driving back after New Year's."

Lyla leaned against the iron gate around the pool in the backyard of the Riggins house. "I fly back New Year's Eve."

"You're not going to stay longer?"

"Naw, I don't see the need."

Claire cleared her throat loudly. "So…so Tim is better, yeah?"

Better? Sure. Lyla glanced at the house; she could see through the sliding glass door into the kitchen, where Billy was shredding the Christmas turkey trying to cut it, Tim leaning over, attempting to help. They were fighting with each other, but they were at least smiling. She'd seen Tim get a shadowed look in his eyes a few minutes after something like that with Billy; he'd told her that he would. They were just few and far between. She looked back down at her feet. "Yeah, he's doing better. Nothing's going to be fixed in two weeks, Claire. That's just…silly."

"You are going to be coming back to Nashville, right? You're not staying in Dillon or anything like that?"

"Don't worry, I'm coming back." If anything…this little visit to Dillon told her that she really wasn't this place anymore. Maybe one day, she thought, thinking of Tim's beautiful house. When he finally finished it, since he said he still had to do the fireplace and some siding and fix a lot of things that he'd kind of rushed on to finish it all, she knew it was going to be even more breathtaking. She also wondered what he planned on doing for a job, he'd kind of hinted that it wasn't what she thought, but don't worry, he'd be fine.

The fact that he said that was a step in the right direction. She would love to maybe end up back here, helping kids in the rural areas of Texas, but until she was ready, she planned on taking other places by storm. Tyra was inside, laughing with Becky and Luke. She supposed it was the same for her. You grow out of it, Lyla thought, sighing and answering Claire's question a little better. "I think Dillon is…I like it, but…right now it's not me," she said. She smiled. "I'll be back in Nashville."

"Good. I was worried there for awhile."

"Why?" she asked, frowning. I was myself. I stayed the same throughout Tim's visit. Throughout this visit.

Claire sighed, shifting in whatever closet she was in, something banging behind her. "Oh you know Lyla, I told you. I remembered how you were after you came back the first time. I was worried it would be worse, but you seem like it's…like it's not like before. You know you're coming back and you're not going to let it hurt you or anything."

I suppose you're right. Lyla shook her hand through her hair, looking up at the clear sky. "I mean…it's been interesting. Seeing my family, Tim's family…we had drinks with one of our best friends and he's having a baby…it's kind of surreal." Tim didn't need me anymore, she realized. Whatever support she'd provided him in Nashville, he didn't need it here in Dillon. She smiled; good. That was the way it was supposed to be. She looked up when the door opened, Tim coming outside, holding two bottles of beer. "I gotta' go Claire," she said.

"Okay. Tell Tim I said hi and if he wants to come visit, please call ahead when I will not be there."

"Sure. You like him, admit it." Lyla met Tim's eyes, smiling when he frowned, glancing at her phone. He mouthed 'who is it?' She didn't say anything, laughing at Claire's protest that she didn't. "Whatever Claire. Everyone ends up liking him. I'll talk to you later. Merry Christmas." She disconnected, taking the beer bottle from Tim. "Thanks."

"You talking to Claire about me?"

"Always." She sipped her beer, glancing sideways when he leaned against the fence beside her. She nodded to the house. "How is it going in there? Anyone else coming over?" It was crowded enough as it was, with the Riggins clan, Tyra, her mother, Buddy, Bud, and Becky and Luke. The Taylors had dropped by earlier to say hello, she'd shown Tami the receipt she'd gotten from her doppleganger, which Tami thought was hilarious, but also agreed with, letting her know that she shouldn't let go of something that she loved. I don't plan on letting go of him, she thought, bumping her shoulder against Tim, her voice soft. "Did you like your gifts?" She'd gotten him a Vanderbilt football jersey and a picture of him with all her group members, which they'd signed, thrilled to be a part of something. She'd also gotten him a new toolbox, since his was battered and falling apart.

Tim nodded, smiling around his bottle of beer. "Yeah, thank you." He set the bottle down on a bistro table beside him, reaching into his pocket, whispering. "Got something for you."

The day was almost over and he hadn't given her a Christmas gift. She'd received a few nice things from her father, but she didn't expect anything from him. She frowned, taking the small jewelry box from him. Tim, don't…please don't, she silently begged, flicking up the jewelry box lid. Her throat caught when she saw the pretty silver script 'L' charm on a chain. "Tim," she whispered, smiling and set her beer down so she could remove the necklace. It was probably the prettiest thing he'd gotten her. Not that he'd ever gotten her much. The Christmas they were together in high school, she'd gotten a day planner and she was pretty sure that was because Jason had told him to get her something for school. It was also the wrong year.

"Here," he whispered, undoing the clasp and reaching around her neck, as she lifted her hair up so he could attach it. She let her hair fall when he pulled away and touched her fingers to it, smiling wide at him. He shrugged, whispering. "Hope you like it."

"When did you get this?" she murmured, still touching it.

Tim shrugged. "One of the days I was in Nashville and you were at class or something. I had to find something to do." He rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I could only snoop so much."

"What?!"

He laughed and she rolled her eyes, lightly punching his elbow. "Relax, you don't have anything worth snooping for," he said, ignoring her second punch. He kept going, not stopping, his eyebrows lifting. "Although your underwear drawer was an eye-opener." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I like the leopard print. That's new."

"Tim!" She laughed, knowing his was joking. It was so good, she thought, her hand lifting to stroke at his jaw. In all seriousness… "You look so much better," she whispered, her thumb brushing across his lower lip. She shrugged. "I like the beard."

"Yeah?" He rubbed at his neck. "I guess I got lazy."

"You could use a haircut," she said, reaching her hands to push through his hair. It wasn't long to his shoulders, but it was really thick. She dropped her hand to his shoulder, rolling her eyes. "I'll cut it tomorrow."

"You cut my hair? I'm not letting you near my neck with scissors."

"Tim if I didn't kill you when you showed up on my doorstep the last week of exams, I'm not going to do it now." She dropped her hand to his chest, her fingers spreading over his heart, listening to it beat. She lifted her face again, to say that she was going to miss him, when Tim swooped in, kissing her. Oh my, she thought, falling off her feet a little, tripping backwards, surprised by the intensity of the kiss. She was stunned, her arms finally lifting around his neck. After a few seconds, she finally began to return the kiss, moaning slightly when he lifted her off of her feet, her hands stroking through his hair and over his jaw again. She finally broke a second after he'd picked her up, her eyes fluttering open. She cleared her throat, swallowing hard. "Wow," she mumbled.

"Yeah," he whispered.

I'm going to regret this, she thought, kissing him again. She didn't even hear the screen door open, finally tearing herself away when Tyra called out, her voice kind of shaky. "Um, you guys? Dinner's ready…if you want to stop making out and come inside."

Lyla glared at the house; Tyra was now smirking. "We'll be there in a second," she called, pulling herself away from Tim. She looked down; their hands were clasped, and fingers sliding around together. She cleared her throat again; damnit Tim. Why do you make me feel like this? "I'm still leaving," she whispered.

"I know."

"I have to go Tim, I can't stay in Dillon."

He smiled. He seemed calm. "I'm not asking you to stay Lyla. I don't need you like that." He reached up, kissing her forehead, whispering. "See you inside."

I don't need you like that. That was so…finite. It was so true though, she thought, turning and joining him in the house, sitting beside him at the table, glancing sideways and smiling when he leaned over and kissed her temple. She caught her father's look, a narrow-eyed glare, and just rolled her eyes. I'm going to be fine Daddy.

The rest of the evening was actually really fun; Lyla spoke with Luke Cafferty, whom she'd never met, but was Becky's boyfriend. He seemed to be so thrilled at the prospect of having a kid with her and was very sweet. Tyra commented on her necklace, saying it was pretty, was it a gift? She'd glanced at Tim long enough for Tyra to smirk. "Never bought me jewelry, you must mean something to him Garrity."

"I think you and I both know it's nothing," she mumbled.

"Yeah, that's a lie," Tyra laughed. She sipped at her glass of wine, clinking a ring on her index finger against the stem. She tossed her shiny dark hair from her eyes, her voice soft, the conversation just between the two of them, even if it was in the center of a busy room. "You and I both know that…that he's one of my best friends and I'm one of his, but we just can't be like that. We bring out the worst in each other." She seemed sad. "It's part of why I left Lyla. I can't end up like my sister, I don't want it."

Lyla glanced at Mindy, who was giggling with Billy, while Buddy tried to get his attention so he could talk about some sort of football thing. Next week was the State game. It was held later than normal, owing to some sort of problem with the other football team they were playing against. She planned on going with Tim to Austin, to see it, but that was mostly because the entire city of Dillon was going, so she was going to be bored out of her skull if she stayed behind. "Mindy seems happy," she whispered.

"Yeah, because she wanted to be a wife and mother," Tyra whispered. She smiled. "I got into graduate school. I'm going to UCLA next year. Master's of Public Administration."

"You want to run a city?"

"Thinking about it," she chuckled. She cocked her head, frowning. "What are you doing with your life when you're not helping to save Tim's soul?" She smirked again. "I think we can both commiserate on that, seeing as we both have the experience."

Lyla shrugged. "I'm studying to be an occupational therapist."

"What's that?"

Her eyes lit up and she explained what she did to Tyra, who seemed impressed, commenting that that seemed like something she would find herself in. "Although I always thought you'd end up owning some multimillion dollar company," she laughed.

"I thought about it, but…" Lyla shrugged again, smiling. She glanced at Tim, who was lifting Ellie up into the air, spinning her around. She was wearing one of her Christmas gifts, a complete head-to-toe outfit of Rapunzel from Tangled, which was her favorite movie. She sipped her glass of wine. "I just didn't think it would suit in the long run."

Tyra finished her glass of wine, twirling the empty glass in her fingertips. She frowned. "Tim said something about how he knew what he was going to do. He has to go back to work next week for the contractor and I know he moonlights at Buddy's, but…you have any idea what he's talking about? He seems happy about it. It's kind of freaky." She narrowed her eyes at Tim. "It's just…sad that it seems weird for him to be happy lately."

"He'll be okay." Lyla didn't know what Tim had up his sleeve, but she knew he seemed to be satisfied with whatever he was going to do. He'd been talking with Buddy and Billy a little bit, serious talks, and she knew when Mrs. Taylor dropped by earlier, he'd spoken with her at length. She wasn't sure what he was planning, but she knew he'd at least try. She looked at Becky and Luke, who were playing with Stevie and Sammy in front of the TV. "Becky seems good for him too."

"If she really does move in with him and with her baby, he's going to kill someone."

I don't know, she thought, glancing at Tim again. He smiled at her from across the room. He was the caretaker. It often got him into all kinds of trouble, but he wasn't half bad at it. She talked with Tyra a little bit more, finally deciding it was time to get back to the house. Becky was going to go with Luke back to his parents' house, to finish out Christmas and stay there for the night, so at least she'd get the bottom bunk tonight.

Tim drove home silently, both of them exhausted from the rather busy day. She went on inside, shrugging off her coat and fell backwards onto the couch, her eyes closing. A moment later, the other end of the couch creaked, with Tim sinking into the cushion beside her feet. She lifted them up, draping them over his knees. Her eyes opened. "You had fun today." She stated it, because he did seem like he'd enjoyed himself.

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes closed. He looked over at her, smiling. "You want to get back to Nashville."

"This weekend we're going to Austin," she said. She smiled sadly. "And I'm going to leave the day after the State game, from the airport there." It was easier to get a flight from Austin to Nashville than from Midland to Nashville. It would also be easier. Tim and her father would have to get back to Dillon, so they would be in a hurry. It'd be easier to say goodbye if they had to hurry home.

He nodded, patting her ankles and lightly set them back on the floor, standing up. His voice was quiet, but his eyes met hers. Saying something totally different. "I'm going to bed."

Lyla waited a moment, watching him walk away to the back room, finally tearing her gaze away when she heard the door close. She pursed her lips, staring at the ceiling. God, Garrity, she thought, closing her eyes tight. Don't do it. Don't do it. Claire told you that you would do it. Just don't…my God, I've lasted this long, she thought, slowly getting up from the couch. She walked slowly down the hallway, pausing at the door to his bedroom. She lifted her knuckles, biting her lower lip and knocked quickly. I'm going to regret this. It's just…just one night. Doesn't have to mean anything. You might even ruin everything you've done the last two and a half weeks, helping him overcome. We're adults. It was just a mess of thoughts, pro and con in her mind. Everything went silent when the door opened open. She lifted her eyes, meeting his. "Lyla," he whispered. He knew. She knew that he knew, their eyes meeting.

Not like it had to be said, but she figured that she might as well let him know. "This is just one night," she murmured, stepping into his room. She reached up with one arm to wrap around his neck, whispering and smiling. "It's just one night. Understand?"

Tim quirked his lip up. "Yes."

"Good." She swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous. She smiled, chuckling. "I'm nervous." She swallowed again. "It's like it's the first time or something."

"Yeah, but it's not like we haven't done it before," he whispered, his forehead dropping to hers. He brushed his lips over hers and she felt him shaking a little. Yeah, it's kind of like that feeling, she thought, feeling him lift her up by her waist. She kissed him, her eyes closing, and gasped, breaking away, her eyes meeting his when he dropped his arm to beneath her knees, lifting her easily off her feet.

She smiled, her hand stroking over his jaw, murmuring. "Smooth."

"Shut up Lyla."

Okay, she thought, kissing him again as he lowered her slowly back on the bed, her arms tight around his neck. This was different, she thought. They weren't teenagers now. They'd both changed. Tim dragged his fingers down over her knee, yanking off her boots. He quickly moved back up to kiss ehr again. "Stop thinking," he ordered.

"I'm not thinking."

"Yes you are. Stop it."

She smiled, grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him harder. Well fine then, I'll stop thinking.


	18. The Bedroom

**Chapter 18: The Bedroom**

"I missed you."

Tim smiled, but it seemed sad. He nodded, his head pillowed on his hands. "Yeah," he whispered. He reached his hand out, tracing a pattern on her shoulder. Lyla tightened her grip around the pillow, wondering what was he was drawing. She thought maybe she might be able to figure it out, but he kept changing, dragging his fingertip from the top of her shoulder to her elbow and back up again to her shoulder blade.

It was kind of relaxing, she thought, closing her eyes. She felt his hand still after a moment, settling in between her shoulders. A moment later, he started moving his fingers again. He was agitated, she thought, opening her eyes, peering through the room at him. In between rounds, she'd disappeared into the living room, taking the candles and bringing them back into the room. It was kind of magical, she thought, seeing the icy rain outside through the windows and with the candles on the two nightstands and dresser, kind of making it seem like they were a hundred years in the past.

This kind of is like going in the past, she thought, looking straight at him again. In the dim light, he looked so tired. Except unlike in Nashville, where the bags beneath his eyes were more pronounced from the dark circles and the lines around his lips seemed deeper, he seemed….now it seemed like a good sort of tired. He'd take a long nap and wake up refreshed.

I missed you, she thought, repeating her spoken words. I didn't realize how much. We're not going to talk about what this means. I'm not going to think about how I caved, but…this was very different. The last time, practically four years ago now…she swallowed hard. They'd been desperate. It had been sad. They were clinging to something that they knew was going to go away.

We know now this will go away. So they savored this time. She opened her eyes again, whispering. "I feel different." She smiled. "Like I'm an adult or something."

"Yeah, well we're not teenagers anymore," Tim said. He sat up a little on his elbow, still tracing at her back. He frowned slightly, dragging his finger down to her hip. He cocked his head. She closed her eyes, trying to hide her smile. He was observant, especially with her body. "What's that?"

"What's what?" she mumbled, but she knew what he was talking about.

Tim slid down the bed, lifting his eyebrow up a little. He inspected her hip, just above her pelvic bone, shaking his head. "That looks like ink, but it couldn't be ink. Because if it were ink, that would mean that…" He gasped, dramatic and pushed a pillow at her, sitting up. "No!"

"No what?"

"You got one!"

"Got what?" She poked at his ribs, where he had a tattoo, kind of under his arm. It had been something she'd seen back in Nashville, obviously, but hadn't commented on. Especially since the last time she freaked out over a boy getting a tattoo, she and Jason had broken up. "You got one."

"I was out of prison and in a bad mood and figured what the hell," Tim said, falling back to his side. She turned a little onto her back, smiling and touching the faded spot on her hip, where there was a very faint, hardly noticeable, outline of ink that the laser hadn't gotten. She had one or two more left before it was almost all gone, leaving behind lightened skin. He nodded to it. "What was it?"

Lyla sighed. "Long story."

"We got time."

She pursed her lips, trying not to smile. She glanced sideways, her voice soft. "I was in Europe with Claire last year for the summer. Twenty-day tour. It was a whirlwind; we were in a new country like…like every two days. We were in Prague, at this nightclub and we were so wasted…" She laughed. "Claire became born again after that Europe trip and probably for good reason, because we really killed it every night we were there. I mean, it was really fun, I saw so much and enjoyed everything and…and I had fun."

"No regrets," he mumbled into his pillow, watching her over the top of it. She nodded in agreement, continuing with her story.

"So we were in Prague and were at this nightclub and Claire brought over these two guys. One was a tattoo artist. He was covered in them. I was terrified. I thought we were going to end up like some movie. Anyway, we left and I was talking with the guy. His name was Peter." She sighed, thinking of Peter. Peter was beautiful. Even with all his tattoos. It was like art, actually. She swallowed hard again, whispering. "Peter told me that some of his tattoos were like…like an extension of himself. Telling stories and people who he was. I thought…what the hell you know? Jason got one to kind of…celebrate his new life."

She poked his ribs again. He smiled slightly. "And it seems you did the same."

"Kind of."

"Anyway…" Lyla turned her head again, staring at the ceiling. "I got a tattoo. Peter's friend put it on me. I was drunk, I didn't even know what I was doing until the next day I realized that it was not fake, it was completely permanent and…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "What it was."

"What was it?" he asked.

She smiled quickly, dragging his finger down, tracing the outline that was barely visible. She sighed, looking down at it, his hand covering her hip, warm on her cool skin. It was silly. "It was a panther," she said. She quickly smiled again at his eyebrow raise. "Yeah. I don't know what I was thinking. Guess I was…I don't know. Claire told me it was subconscious. Whatever it was, I knew it was going. I wasn't going to have it on me forever. So I started getting it removed. I have like one or two more before it's gone for good. Mostly."

Tim chuckled, ducking his head on his pillow, looking up at her again, but he was smiling. "Mine says no regrets."

"Is that what it says?"

"Yeah, it's a different language. Tattoo artist that did it speaks it or something. Anyway…" Tim shook his head again, grinning. "Enough about my tattoo which I'm not removing. On to yours." He laughed again. "I can't believe you got a tattoo. Plus you swear now. You drink whiskey…" He laughed. "What else have you done that I don't know about? You riding motorcycles now?"

Lyla giggled, nodding again at his stunned expression. "Yes," she answered. She sat up, her hair falling over her shoulder and she tugged the pillow to her chest, covering herself. "I dated a guy in my junior year who had one. I was screaming so loud the first time because I was terrified. Now I love it."

"You don't have one, do you?" he asked, his eyes narrowed to slits. He cocked his head, his lip curving up. "You jump out of a plane yet? Bungee-jumping?"

"No, I don't feel like dying by plummeting to the earth." She couldn't explain it. Maybe she could…she sighed hard, swallowing nervously. "It's like…" Lyla shook her hand through her hair again. "It's like I was living my life as this sheltered little girl. Daddy's girl…even though I haven't been Daddy's girl since I was fourteen. Anyways…" She explained it in the only way she knew how. "I wanted to do things that I was scared of doing. I was in a new place, with new people and…and I wanted something for myself for once in my life. So I did all these crazy things that old Lyla wouldn't have thought twice about doing. I'm a new person." That was the only way she could explain it.

Tim nodded, looking down at the bed. He rolled onto his back, his arms going behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. She mimicked his pose a moment later, their elbows touching. What are you thinking, she wondered. She watched the candlelight make wavering patterns on the ceiling. It was almost hypnotizing, she thought, her eyes drooping slightly.

His husky voice snapped her out of her hypnosis, forcing her head to turn to him. "You know I know you said that we weren't going to do this, but I think it's good, because…because it's not like how it…it was before, you know?" He sighed again. "It's nice."

It's very nice, she thought, turning to rest her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped over his chest. She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and slowly released them. "I think we did something different," she said, tilting her chin up, smiling at him.

"I think we did what we always did," Tim said, smiling a little. He pinched at her elbow. "Although you do have some new moves."

A faint flush crept up her neck. She shook her head quickly. "No Tim, not like that."

"What do you mean?"

Nevermind. I don't want to make this awkward. Lyla sighed, whispering. "Forget it." She felt sleepy. It was almost four in the morning. They'd either been otherwise occupied or talking for most of the night. She touched the necklace around her throat, the 'L' charm nestled in the hollow of her throat. She inhaled deeply, kissing his neck and whispering. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just thank you."

After a few minutes of quiet, she was almost asleep, when his voice broke the silence. "I should probably thank you."

"I love you," she sighed, patting his shoulder as he pulled the blankets up over them. She curled into him deeper, kissing his jaw, her eyes opening and fixating on his. "I only want you happy Tim. Whatever happens between us…from here on out, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy." I gave up a lot for that wish. I just hope you realize it. She rested her head back to his shoulder again, shivering slightly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder tighter. Another quiet moment passed. "You know…" She could hear smiling in his voice. Good, at least someone was smiling. "Claire is going to kill you."

She laughed, in spite of herself. "Yeah, well," she mumbled, sighing. "Not if I don't kill myself first." This isn't anything Tim. It isn't us getting back together, she thought, opening her eyes again. She frowned, biting her lower lip. Did he realize that? "Tim."

"Relax." He rolled over slightly, pinning her beneath his arm. He kissed the crook of her neck, his chin resting on her shoulder. He sighed, his breathing rustling her hair over her shoulder. He squeezed her slightly and his voice was soft. "You and me Garrity…we just aren't meant for…anything bigger than this."

And that was kind of sad, said like that, she thought, frowning. Maybe one day, she wanted to say, but it wasn't the time or place for that. Besides, he was already falling asleep, she thought, touching her fingers to his hair. She lay awake for a few more minutes, his words echoing in her head. Bigger than this. No, she thought, frowning again. It hurt, to hear it that way.

But she supposed they weren't. "Go to sleep," Tim murmured. "Stop thinking."

She smiled quickly, her head nudging against his, whispering. "Hard to stop thinking."

"Just try."

Lyla smiled, closing her eyes and hugging him tighter. She only opened her eyes a moment later to blow out the candles and then returned to the bed after putting on the flannel shirt he'd thrown on the floor earlier. She curled up beside him again, smiling. All in all, she thought, this had been a nice Christmas. It just took everything in her power to not think about when she'd have to leave.


	19. Closing the Door

**A/N:**Last two chapters are going up today so I don't leave you hanging while I'm away. Hope everyone enjoyed this and thank you for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated. :)

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**Chapter 19: Closing the Door**

"Are you ever going to tell Becky that you were partially responsible for Luke being home early?" Lyla asked, sitting straight in the front seat of Tim's truck, as they drove towards Austin, following a parade of cars decked out in Panther blue and yellow. She glanced sideways. He didn't break his gaze from the road. She poked his elbow. "Tim? Are you ever going to tell her?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "No. What exit again?"

"I think it's just up here, follow the cars."

"Did you get a room?"

"Yes, I got a room." She swallowed hard, lifting an eyebrow, with arched over the top of her aviator sunglasses. "I got one room." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lip curve very, very slightly. She continued, her voice level. "King bed. Non-smoking. Mini-bar. It's right by the stadium."

"Hmm," he hummed, relatively unresponsive. Hell, she at least expected something for him. Whatever, maybe he was in a mood. He got off at the correct exit, apparently already knowing where he was going. I wonder if he ever visited Tyra at UT, she thought. It was only four hours away, that wasn't very far in the grand scheme of things. Tim turned towards the hotel, the little car on her phone GPS tracking at the same rate they were going. He answered her silent wondering. "I never came to see Tyra, but she said to stop in her apartment if we wanted, before the game." I think I'd rather eat glass. Again, Tim read her mind, continuing. "I told her we might be busy and you were leaving the next day."

"Well it was nice of her to ask."

He turned the truck into a short roundabout beneath an awning of the hotel. He put it into park and glanced sideways, chuckling. "You can't stand her."

A faint blush filled her cheeks. She shook her head, opening up the car door, trying to laugh it off. "I don't hate her, Tim. We get on fine, we're just never going to be best friends."

"What if Buddy marries her mom?"

"Even then, Tim. By the way, if that happens, I'll probably die of shock or will have killed myself, so there's that. Come on, let's check in and then go walk around, I want to stretch my legs after that long drive." She checked in for them both, going upstairs and finding their room. They were right next door to her father, she knew, since he'd gotten the rooms as part of the Panther bulk deal. She also knew that Billy and Mindy were on the same floor, as were Jason and Erin, who had managed to get their flight changed so they could attend. Lyla was looking forward to seeing Noah; she still had to meet him.

She entered their room, setting down her bag and shrugged off her coat, turning to hang it over the desk chair, when she felt an arm wrap around her waist. "No!" she giggled, as Tim lifted her clear off the ground, carrying her to the bed. He dropped her backwards and pounced on her. "Stop!" she laughed, kicking her feet in the air. "No, no, no!" She screeched when he blew raspberries on her neck, biting at her shoulder. "Tim stop!"

"Stop screaming!" he laughed, sitting back onto his heels. He grinned, shrugging at her stunned, but quizzical look. What the hell was that? He'd just kind of…well he was laughing and smiling. She sat back on her elbows and he smiled, falling backwards onto his elbows, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. "I just thought I'd surprise you. You looked so serious." He made a face, his lips pursing out like a fish and his forehead furrowing. "Lighten up."

"Lighten up?" she laughed. She crawled towards him, pinching at his waist, pushing him onto his back. Talk about hypocrisy. She didn't want to draw attention to it, so she dropped a fast kiss to his lips. She fell backwards onto her heels, her hands going to the tops of her thighs. Tim sat back up again. She'd cut his hair after Christmas and it was closer cropped than she'd ever seen it, but he said it wanted it that way. It was just a little long on the ends over his ears. Thick. She smiled a little wider, awkwardness beginning to settle between them. "Let's go find something to eat. Maybe get Jason and Erin to come along, bring Noah?"

I need other people with us, she thought, biting her lower lip. Thankfully, Tim saw it too; he hesitated slightly, his voice dropping. "I…I told Billy I'd find him and have dinner with him…just us…" He looked up again, uncertain. "I thought maybe…before his big coaching day, you know…"

It wasn't like Billy was the head coach; he wasn't. It was a guy that they brought in from Ohio or some such place, Lyla thought. Billy just acted like head coach, because the actual head coach still wasn't used to navigating the Texas high school football waters the way Billy could; plus, Buddy knew he could get farther with Billy so he manipulated him more. She smiled. "That's really good Tim," she whispered. She leaned for him, hugging him tight. "You should do that."

"You gonna' be okay?"

"Oh I'll be fine. This is good Tim." She climbed off the bed, gathering her coat and purse. It would be good for her too; she liked Austin, especially the UT campus, and wanted to explore a little. She shrugged into her coat. "I'm going to go find something to eat. I'll see you later." Tim gave her a silent wave, reaching for the television remote. She left the room, finding Jason, Erin, and Noah, and left to have dinner with them.

She was listening to Noah explain about his school, which he loved, he said to her, when Jason leaned towards her, his voice quiet. "Do you know what Tim is up to?" he asked.

That could be anything. "I'm sorry sweetheart," Lyla said, tearing her gaze from Noah, who kept talking, undeterred by his father's interruption. She glanced at Jason. "Jason," she murmured. She shook her head. "I am having a lovely evening with your family, I don't want to talk about Tim." It was really refreshing not to have to care about him right now. To focus on something else for once. She smiled at Jason's surprised look. "I'm not going to babysit him, Jason, I told him that when he came to Nashville and I'll say it now. We're friends, but I'm not his babysitter and I think that that approach is working with him." It was the honest truth. She loved him, cared for him, but she wasn't going to monitor his every movement. Especially not now.

"You mean he's getting better?" Jason asked. He shook his head, chuckling. "He still seems…"

"He's never going to get better," Lyla whispered. She didn't like that term. She shrugged, whispering. "Just like you were never going to get better. Like walking. Tim's not going to be the same person, he never will, but he can at least live. Enjoy. Which I think he is beginning to see is no longer something to be scared of and he's with Billy right now. We'll see how that goes, but Christmas went well." She just didn't want him to have some sort of massive setback where he was having the nightmares again.

Knock on wood he hadn't had any since Nashville. She sipped her glass of wine, clearing her throat and glancing back at Jason. She was a little curious, especially since Jason had brought it up, so…she shrugged. "What do you think Tim's up to?"

Jason shook his head, shrugging slightly. "I…I think he's doing something with quad rugby, believe it or not. I don't really know what to make of it; he wanted me to show him a picture of my chair again. Then he went to Herc's. Which couldn't be good news."

"I didn't know he went to see Herc."

"Thought you said you weren't his babysitter?"

Touché, she thought, arching an eyebrow. She chuckled, looking away from Jason and back to Noah, who was now trying to show her his magic tricks. She spent the rest of the evening with them, finally venturing back upstairs something around ten that night, closing the door behind her and finding Tim stretched out on the bed, a notebook in his hands as he scribbled in it. He looked over the top o fit at her. "How was dinner?"

"Fine," she answered, shedding her coat and purse. She looked at him. He seemed okay. "How was Billy?"

"Okay." Tim closed the notebook, getting up and shoving it into his backpack. He reached in and removed one of the pill bottles, holding it in his hands. He tossed it up and down for a moment. What are you going to do, she wondered. He said they came when he was overly stressed or something had happened with Billy. Did he think he was going to get one tonight? Lyla turned away, changing into her pajamas. She climbed into the bed, looking over as he still held the pills, weighing his decision.

Don't do it, she thought, biting her lower lip. I'll be here if you have one. He glanced at her and then to the pills. He opened the top. Her eyes closed. After a moment, she didn't hear the rattling of the pills into his hands. She looked up, seeing him put them back in his backpack, not taking them. She settled back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "It's only ten," she mumbled.

"That's like early morning for me."

"You've been going to bed early Grandpa."

"I wake up early, Grandma." He did wake up early, to go to work on the construction crew. Which she was surprised still worked during the frosty winters. He turned his head slightly, whispering. "Can I show you something? It's kind of long, might take a minute."

She rolled her eyes. "Tim, that's gross."

"No, not that, but maybe later." He got out of bed again. Rummaged in his bag and returned. He passed her a folder. She sat back against the headboard, flicking it open and staring at a design. She frowned, cocking her head slightly and glanced at him, turning a page and found another design. It was like the blueprints. Rough sketches, with measurements thrown off to the side in his chicken scratch. As she turned pages, she saw outlines that looked like ramps and slides. She frowned harder, trying to distinguish what it all was. She finally got to the back, picking up the flyer. She swallowed hard. Dillon Tech Associate's Degree Programs. There was a transcript behind it. She pulled it out, staring at the top. Carr County Correctional Facility Educational Program. Dillon High School, with his barely 3.0 GPA, received only because she'd helped him so much his final year.

Lyla placed everything back in its order, closing the folder. She turned her head, seeing his nervous, expectant look. She swished her mouth around, lifting her eyebrows again, her forehead wrinkling. "Well," she murmured. She opened it back up, looking at the transcript. The classes were pass and fail, but they were accredited with hours, she could see the total at the bottom. Classes like algebra, geometry…she closed it again, staring ahead. Processing the information. "Well," she repeated.

"Well what?" Tim whispered. He shrugged, whispering. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Lyla sighed. She set the folder aside, turning in the bed to face him, her hands tightly folded in her lap. She frowned, concerned. "I think it's good, but Tim please don't do this because it's what I wanted for you. I wanted you to go to college and get an education, but please don't do this because you think I want it for you. This has to be something that you want." She pressed her fist into his heart, hoping to get that across.

She didn't want him to start doing something he didn't want, because it would please her. Not that he'd ever done anything like that in the first place. He'd dropped out of college and given up the scholarship because he didn't want it to begin with and had gone through with it for her. In the end, Tim did what he wanted. All Lyla wanted for him right now was for him to do what he wanted, what he felt, but to realize its consequences. Which he seemed to be doing a lot more of lately.

However, they'd been spending so much time together…she shook her head, whispering. "What are the designs?" she murmured, frowning slightly.

Tim opened the folder back up, pointing to the transcript. "Garrity, look at the date on this thing." He continued, before she could look at it again. His voice was hard, kind of annoyed. "I did classes in jail because well, what else was I going to do? But you know what? I also was sitting there, with nothing but my thoughts and I hated that that's where I ended up. I took the classes because I wanted to do something that wasn't just hating myself. Or my life. Or where I'd ended up. Had nothing to do with you."

He turned the pages again, rifling through, jabbing his finger at the sketches. "And these? I had the thought after we started going to your classes. That chick, Riley? She's thirteen and she's in a wheelchair. She was popular, she was a cheerleader, and she was getting made fun of already, so I thought what the hell, you know? Give them something that they don't have to be embarrassed about, so this…" He pointed to it again and Lyla saw the outline, realizing. "It's a bedroom set. It's got the bars and stuff but they're built in. The desks are wider for their chairs and…" He pointed to another design. "Andrew liked X-Men, he said if he was like Wolverine he wouldn't be in a chair and he would miss playing it with his friends, so this is kind of like…" He shrugged. "I don't know it's like a playground set but for a chair…he just seemed…" He sighed and rubbed at his chest, grimacing. "I hated hearing that Garrity."

He turned to another page. "I don't know where my mind is going Garrity but I talked to Herc and Jason about their chairs and what kinds and Mrs. Taylor and I want to do something with this and Mrs. Taylor said I could, she said she'd help me, so you know what?" He slammed everything together, throwing it back into his backpack, turning and shouting at her. "I actually want to do something to help someone else, okay? Feel free to make fun of me and say I'm going give up on it because I do that with everything else and I would never help someone else but me!"

I actually was not going to say anything of the sort, Lyla thought, and her eyebrows lifted clear to her hairline. She sat straight in the bed, her hand on her knee, while her other hand held her up, pressed into the pillow behind her. She ignored the lock of hair that fell into her eyes, too busy staring at him and trying not to smile. He glared at her. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," she said. She sat up a little straighter, peering at him through the stray lock of hair. He was mad. Angry. Upset that she would think he wasn't actually working. Or thinking of someone else. That was not at all what she was thinking. What she'd been thinking was that he was quite possibly one of the most big-hearted people she'd ever had a chance to know. She smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "Good for you Tim," she whispered.

He blinked. "Huh?"

"I said good for you. You're doing something for someone else and you're upset when people don't think you're working for it. I don't know what you're going to do with all of this, but if I can help you in any way, shape or form, given my contacts or anyone I might possibly come across, I will do it in a heartbeat," she said, laughing. She pushed back the covers, crawling out of the bed and walking to him, taking his hands into hers and laughed. Tears flooded her vision. "I think you can do whatever you want Tim Riggins. So long as it is what you want." She jabbed her finger into his chest. Her voice cracked. "And three weeks ago in Nashville I could not imagine standing here with you saying that. I didn't want anything to do with you and I am so sorry for thinking that those first few days. I was just…"

"You were angry." His voice had quieted significantly. He frowned slightly. "You were angry and I was coming in to mess up what you'd done."

She shook her head quickly, her voice cracking as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "You didn't mess it up." Hell, you brought me back to Dillon. To Jason. To my family. You helped me just as much…she swallowed hard, whispering. "I think you thawed me a little Tim."

"I thawed you?" he laughed. He shook his head, whispering. "You were fine Garrity. Different, but…fine."

"We can both agree that we're both different people." Yet somehow, she thought, smiling at him. Somehow their differences hadn't changed their attraction or love for each other. She rose on her toes, wrapping her arms tight around his neck, whispering. "I love you so much Tim. Whatever you do, I'm sure you will be great."

"Same for you Lyla."

She pulled away, kissing him lightly. She turned around, crawling back into the bed and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, he turned off the light and crawled in beside her. She eventually turned into him, surprised to find he was already asleep. She grinned. Flat on his back and unmoving. The night progressed and she woke up and he was in the exact same position. No nightmare.

They went to the football game, sitting with everyone else in the good seats, behind the team's bench. She glanced at Tim and Jason, finding it a bit strange to sit in the stands with them, watching a State game, rather than watch at least one of them on the field. She cheered the whole time, her throat hoarse by the time the buzzer sounded to end the game, with Dillon winning by a touchdown.

Lyla stood, unmoving, her hands clasped and her mouth open, grinning stupidly when Tim broke free of the crowd, tackling Billy on the field, both of them wrestling and trying to hug and congratulate each other. She blinked through tears, walking down the steps, hugging her father and giving him a kiss, saying she would see him soon.

"Where are you going?" Buddy asked, trying to drag her into the celebrations on the field. He laughed. "We won State!"

"I'll see you at Easter," she said, giving him another tight hug. He glanced at Tim, who was still with Billy, both of them still not letting go of each other. She smiled, nodding. "It's okay! I'll see you Daddy, I love you so much." She hugged him tightly, her eyes still on Tim. He hadn't yet seen her. Good.

She slipped away, slinking out of the stadium, knowing that it was probably wrong not to say goodbye, but it was also good. It wasn't necessarily goodbye. She went back to the hotel, leaving her key and gathering her things, hailing a cab and went to the airport. There, she changed her ticket, went through security, and was sitting at the gate when her phone finally went off. Lyla looked at the number, recognizing Tim. She sighed, lifting it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Your dad said you left," he whispered. He didn't seem as upset about it as she thought he might. Tim hesitated, his voice soft. "You're leaving now. For Tennessee."

Lyla nodded quickly; she was trying so hard not to cry and to be strong. She bit her lower lip and whispered. "I thought it might be easier this way." It was just as difficult as she thought it might have been if he was standing with her saying goodbye. She wiped at her eyes, sighing shakily. "I love you Tim. I really love you and these past few weeks have been…good for us both. You're going to be fine. I know you are."

"I love you too." He let out another shaky breath, whispering. "Goodbye Lyla."

"Not goodbye," she whispered. She laughed, wiping at her eyes again, smiling. People walking around her must have thought she was insane. She couldn't help it. She touched her necklace, feeling the L beneath her fingers. Her voice was soft. "Good luck Tim."

"You too Lyla Garrity."

She waited, until she heard some static on his end, as he lowered the phone. Mirroring him, she did the same, disconnecting. Her eyes closed tight and she held her head in her hands. It was time to go anyway. She sat in silence, until her plane boarded and then she sat in silence on the plane. When she landed in Nashville, she walked out into baggage claim, seeing Claire waiting, holding up a sign. "Broken Heart."

Lyla laughed, walking to her friend, her arm going around her neck. "Not really broken," she whispered, her arm still around Claire's shoulders, while Claire held her close. She shook her hair from her eyes. "It's not really…"

"Could have fooled me," Claire said. She sighed, her sign tucked under her arm. "I'll make an exception to the rule and let you get drunk in the house tonight. I won't, but I'll watch you. Sound good?"

It was hard to explain to someone who had never known Tim the way she did. Lyla shook her head, smiling. "It's not heartbreak, Claire. I can't explain it, but…" She reached into her bag, removing the receipt from the Bluebird. "I don't plan on letting him go. Not really."

"Holy shit, is this Rayna Jaymes, like the superstar?"

She grinned. "It's a long story. In fact, my entire relationship with Tim is a long story, one that I will be more than happy to finally share with you over a bottle of wine, my born-again friend."

Claire rolled her eyes again. "Fine. I'll drink tonight. But just because you need me and because I really want to know the entire saga of Tim and Lyla."

I don't really need anyone, Lyla thought, smiling. She removed her phone, waiting on Claire to open up her car door when they reached it, seeing a text from Tim. All he'd said was that he'd see her soon and good luck. She replied back with the same and shoved her phone into her pocket. She didn't expect to hear from him unless she reached out. Which she wouldn't.

Tim didn't need her as a babysitter and she didn't need him as a charge. These last few weeks had been…interesting, but it was time to just let go and be friends. Lyla climbed up into Claire's Jeep, settling back and smiling, comforted.


	20. See You On the Other Side

**Chapter 20: See You On the Other Side**

_Six Years Later_

"Daddy!"

Tim scowled when Taylor Cafferty jumped on him over the top of the couch, knocking him in the head with the heels of her cowboy boots. He pushed the little girl off of him, but at the same time grabbed her around her neck, ruffling her curly dark hair. "What did I tell you about calling me that?" he growled. Goodnaturedly, he thought.

Not that his growl did anything to her, because she just giggled, peering up at him with bright green eyes. "Um…do it?" she giggled, rolling over and sitting on her knees next to him, sighing dramatically. "I'm soooo bored!" she droned.

"I'm right next to you, stop yelling." He threw aside the plans he was sketching up; he was a fool to think he would get any work done at all with her staying at his house for the next few days. He smiled slightly at the little kid. Hell, he'd never openly admit it but he loved her. A lot. "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno, I told you, I'm bored." Taylor turned upside down, her head going to his lap. He lightly brushed his fingers through her curls. She sniffed, wiping at her nose, smiling. "Tell me how I was born."

Aw, man. How did he know she was going to ask that though? "Again?"

"Mommy said you helped me be born, tell me the story. I like to hear it."

Yes, because it was a story worthy of a television show, Tim thought, thinking of, quite literally, a dark and stormy night. He sighed, glancing down at her again; she was looking at him expectedly. "How about I tell you how your mom thought you were a boy?"

"Daddy too."

"Daddy thought you were a boy too."

"And he got there just in time because he flew a plane!" Taylor shouted.

"If you know this story, I'm not telling it to you again." Tim grabbed her around her waist, lifting her up and holding her beneath his arm. He spun her in a few circles; making her dizzy might shut her up. While he spun her, he told her that yes, her father was on his way home to make sure that he was there for when she was born, but he was late, so Luke, who was applying for officer candidate school so he could become a helicopter pilot, ended up taking the controls of the small commuter plane he'd managed to hitch on from Midland to Dillon, since it was a storm and almost no one was flying and the pilot lost consciousness. He landed the plane, managed to find a car and was halfway to the hospital when he saw a car pulled over on the side of the road.

"And that was me!" Taylor shouted.

Tim rolled his eyes. He loved his kid, he seriously did. He'd been the one to deliver her on the side of the damn road, because she decided to come faster than planned. He kissed the top of her head, setting her down on her feet. "Yup, it was you."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?" He ruffled her hair again. "Fine, I'll tell you how your mother was eating nothing but red peppers for three weeks to get you to come and she sneezed and there you were."

"No, that's not the story."

"Well it's sort of the story. So she sneezed and realized you were coming, so we got in the car to go to the hospital, but she couldn't make it." He shuddered. That had been terrifying. He could barely see on the pitch black roads near his house, they were only about a mile from the hospital when Becky started screaming that they had to pull over because the baby was coming right then and there. He'd called 911, who were in the process of talking him through delivery the baby when Luke pulled up at the exact moment Taylor decided to pop out screaming.

"And I was a girl," Taylor concluded.

Tim laughed. That had been fun actually. He'd thought it was twins for a moment, because Becky kept saying it was a boy. Turned ut the doctor said she only thought it was a boy and would have to confirm later. Becky never asked her to confirm, she'd just assumed. "Yes," he said, kissing the top of her head. He smiled. "You were a girl."

"And then you took me home."

"And then we took you home and you never left." Taylor ended up living with him for the better part of three years. Luke was constantly in training or deployed and Becky didn't want to move to live on base with a newborn, not when her support base was all in Dillon. So Luke ended up living with him and Becky when he wasn't training or deployed.

Finally, they got married and Becky moved with Luke to Kentucky, but she hated it, s she moved back to Dillon when he deployed with his helicopter squadron. Right now Luke and Becky were on a honeymoon of sorts and he'd stupidly said that he would watch Taylor.

Or Timmy, as she tended to call herself, since Becky decided to keep the name she'd chosen when she thought the baby was a boy. Taylor Timothy, she'd decided and she was keeping it despite the baby being a girl. So now and then Taylor was called Timmy. Taylor looked up at him, her arms wrapping around his knees. She peered up, smiling, and her eyes sparkling. "Daddy Tim…"

"Tim," he corrected her. It was a habit she'd gotten into saying, one that Luke, Becky, and he was not encouraging. She didn't seem to get it. He sighed. "What's up kid?"

"Tim," she said, pursing her lips. She narrowed her eyes. "How come you don't gots a girlfriend? Or a wife?"

"I don't have time." That was only partially the truth. He smiled. "It's also really hard to get a girlfriend or a wife when I have an annoying little girl running around calling me Daddy when I'm not her daddy. Understand?"

She smiled, showing off a row of missing teeth. "Nope." She let go of him, walking to the front window, cocking her head. "Hey Tim, you gots a visitor!"

"I have a visitor," he corrected. He closed his eyes, shuddering. Since when did he become that person who corrected others? It went unnoticed by Taylor, who repeated her improper grammar again, saying that he had a visitor. He thought it might have been Billy, so he waited for the front door to open without so much as a knock. To his surprise, the doorbell rang.

Taylor took off to the front door, hopping on her feet. She clapped her hands. "Please, please, can I open it?"

"Let's make sure it's not a murderer."

"It's a lady, ladies aren't murderers."

"You clearly don't watch cable," Tim said, glancing out the window. He jumped back in surprise, quickly reaching for the door, pulling it open over the protests of Taylor, saying she should get to open the door because she asked nicely. Not so nicely, he thought, revealing someone he was definitely not expecting to see on his threshold. He pursed his lips, leaning against the open door. "Hey," he whispered.

Lyla Garrity smiled, long and slow, her eyes sparkling. "Hey," she said, her voice husky. She was fiddling with a hat in her hands, her bag hanging on her shoulder. She smiled, glancing down at Taylor. Her voice softened. "Well hello, who might you be?"

"I'm Taylor Cafferty," Taylor said, holding her hand out. "Nice to meet ya'. Who are you?"

"This is Lyla," Tim said, his hand falling to Taylor's shoulder, to prevent her from running off. He stepped backwards, silently allowing Lyla to enter the house. He closed the door, letting go of Taylor, who ran forward to inspect the hat that Lyla was holding. It was strange; it looked like a stop sign or kind of like a weird beret. She held it out to Taylor, who was peering at it, her eyes wide and clearly wanting to see it. "Taylor," he warned.

"Relax, I'm just looking." She took the hat from Lyla, looking up, smiling. "What is it?"

"It's my occidental cap," Lyla explained. She looked up at him, smiling again, her voice quiet. "I graduated. Got my Ph.D." Oh…wow, he thought, his eyes widening slightly. He stepped towards her, as Taylor ran off with the hat on her head, saying something about how he was the best daddy ever for letting her wear it. He waved his hand at Lyla's surprised look. "Something you want to tell me abut you and Becky?" she laughed.

He rolled his eyes. "The kid has an imagination, she lives so much with me, she thinks I'm her dad, but she knows better. Does it to piss me off. Right?" he called. Taylor nodded smartly, standing up on the coffee table. He snapped his fingers, pointing to the floor. "Get off the furniture."

"Whatcha' gonna' do? Make me?" He shot her one look, which had her crawling off the table, mumbling sorry. That's what I thought. Tim glanced at Lyla, his eyebrow lifting. She was hiding giggles behind her hand.

She bit her lower lip, her hands going to her hips. "Pretty funny. I didn't realize that they were still so close with you. I should have assumed." Why would you, he wondered. They hadn't seen each other in…hell years, he thought, thinking of a brief moment after she graduated with her Master's from Vanderbilt. He'd gone back to Tennessee with Buddy. They'd walked along the Shelby Street Bridge and said their goodbyes. She was off to study in California, while he was returning to Texas.

Tim led her out of the house, opening the door for her, but Taylor shot out instead, still wearing Lyla's hat. He shouted for her to stay close to the house, which she said she would. "Liar," he mumbled, but smiled, when Taylor ran to the edge of a tree and then shot back, zooming around in circles. He smiled wider, finally glancing at Lyla, who was watching him. "What?"

"Nothing, you're very happy." Lyla reached into her bag, removing a heavy looking book-like object. She opened it up, holding it so he could study the thick parchment looking paper, with 'Stanford University' in script over the top.

He read aloud. "A Doctor of Philosophy degree in Neuroscience is hereby conferred upon Lyla Mary Garrity, this twenty-sixth day of May, year 2018." He looked up at her, smiling. "So I have to call you Doctor now?"

"Yes, I will only answer to Dr. Garrity," she teased. She took the degree, folding it back and placing it in her bag, tossing her hair over her shoulder, grinning. "I got my license for Texas. I'm going to work at UT Medical Center. There's a rehab facility there and I've been hired to help develop the pediatric programs. I'll be doing part-time admin stuff and part-time working with kids. I'm…" she sighed, smiling. It seemed nervous to him, but he knew she'd be wonderful. "Excited."

That's great, he thought, his arms crossing over his chest. But why are you here? She seemed really nervous, shifting her weight and the strap of her bag on her bare shoulder. It was digging into her skin. He reached for it, fixing the strap, so it wasn't curling up into her shoulder. She glanced away, as his fingers brushed across her collarbone. He pulled his hand back, lest he do something he regret, studying her again. Why are you here, he wondered, but simply waited.

For a few seconds, she squinted at him and then glanced off to Taylor, who was on the swingset he'd built for her ages ago, in her own world, swinging back and forth so her hair touched the ground when she tilted back. "Careful!" he called. "Don't knock your head!"

"I won't!" A few minutes later, he heard her muffled 'ow.' Yeah, right, he thought with an eyeroll.

"So what's up?" he finally asked Garrity, taking a few steps from the house. He glanced over his shoulder as she set her bag down, following him without the burden of carrying it along at her shoulder. "You visiting your dad?"

Lyla nodded. She reached up, tugging on the 'L' charm of the necklace he'd given her for Christmas years ago. He glanced at her left hand, frowning slightly. There was a faint tanline on her left ring finger. He darted his gaze to hers, meeting for a brief moment before she was looking away, whispering. "Jackson and I broke up."

"You didn't break up Garrity, you're getting a divorce?" How come he didn't know this? Buddy would have certainly told him. Although maybe not, he thought, frowning slightly. Buddy loved Jackson Thorne, a football player for Stanford, if Tim remembered right. He was in medical school. Lyla met him there, on her first day. He sighed, his arms crossing. What was she doing here?

"Fine," she mumbled. She tossed her hair from her eyes which were sparkling. "I'm getting a divorce," she murmured. She sighed, her breath rattling in her throat, which constricted visibly. "I love him, don't get me wrong, but…we were so young when we get married and…and I think we didn't realize how hard it was going to be, with him in medical school and me writing my dissertation and working…" She sighed again, smiling again. She shrugged. "It wasn't my first choice. We went to counseling…but I won't bore you."

I'm not bored. I just want to know why you're here. I'm doing fine, Garrity, why are you here, he kept repeating. He glanced away; Taylor was watching them from her swing. He waved. She waved back. "Luke and Becky are on their honeymoon, she's staying with me," he explained, without prompting.

"She's gotten so big. The last time I saw her she was still teething."

"She's a little…" he smiled, waving at Taylor, who narrowed her eyes at him, as though she knew he was talking about her. He sighed, smiling. "Little handful, but she's been living in Kentucky for the last two years, so…I'm trying to make this fun for her, but she's not having it."

"You ever think of getting one of your own?" He frowned, glancing at Lyla, whow as laughing, covering her eyes with her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just realized how that sounded," she laughed, grinning. She shrugged, her voice soft. "You ever think of settling down? Finding that woman to have a kid with?"

This wasn't 20 Questions Tim Riggins, he thought, squinting. He shrugged, his hands going into his pockets, his voice soft. "I don't know Garrity." He didn't want to talk about this, it tended to get them in trouble when they tried to talk about the future. He nodded to her bag. "You have your degree now, you're settling down in Austin."

"Yeah," she murmured. She smiled quickly, whispering. "I'm about two weeks out of a finalized divorce. Dissolution, actually." She sighed, her voice sad. "It's upsetting that one word can mean so much. End a marriage. Dissolution. It sounds so sad." Her voice faltered, catching. "It was sad." She quickly recovered, smiling again. "So how is your life treating you? My dad says that you signed with a big company in Dallas."

He nodded, running his hand over his hair, glancing at the playset Taylor was jumping around on. The playgrounds had become a hit. He'd used Tyra's general savvy at life to help him with some investors, which he really sucked at getting, and then kind of went from there. He'd also kind of started specializing in installing ramps, which was what the company had hired him for. "Yeah," he whispered. "They want their entire headquarters retrofitted to meet new AWDA standards."

Lyla squinted. "AWDA?"

"Americans With Disabilities Act," Tim whispered. He felt his lips tug up, in spite of himself. "You don't know what that means?" He laughed outright. "I know more than Lyla Garrity!"

"Shut up! I've never heard it called that before in regular conversation. I work with children, you do the construction stuff."

"We could make a good team," Tim teased. He smiled, but it fell a little. He shrugged again. "I sometimes volunteer at the center."

"The rehab center?" she asked, surprised. She grinned. "Wow. I had no idea."

It wasn't something a lot of people knew. It was something he'd started doing after he'd been hired to fix a house for a single mother, whose daughter was in a wheelchair. He'd actually dated her for a few months, but the kid started getting too close and Tim didn't want to cause problems, so he'd left. He'd volunteered to take her to a playgroup there and when he'd taken her in, he'd kind of stayed. It was fun. Plus Herc hung out there for quad rugby and he'd kind of started just helping out here and there.

It gave him something to do, other than sit around by himself in his house, which he usually didn't mind, but…well after Becks and the baby left, he really started dreading it. "How is Billy?" she asked, quite suddenly.

It forced his head up, surprised. "Ah…fine," he said. He shrugged. "He's…head coach now, so he's busy all the time." That had been a shock, when the board decided on Billy Riggins, especially since rumors had Coach Taylor returning to Dillon. They'd settled in Austin a couple years ago and Tim thought that was as far back to Dillon as Mrs. Taylor was going to get, so Coach was stuck in Austin. But he didn't seem to mind.

Lyla shrugged again, her voice dropping. "I meant you…you and Billy."

Oh…oh okay. Yeah, he nodded, his shoulders rolling back as he rocked on his heels. He dug his toes into the dirt, his flip-flop falling off his foot a little. He closed his eyes. That was a loaded question. "We're…" He hadn't thought much about it. Not really. He shrugged. "I guess we're okay."

"No fighting or anything?"

"No, no more than usual," he said, chuckling. He felt much better. Better than he had in the last few years than probably ever in his life. He glanced at Taylor. Partially her. Partially Becky. Hell, even Tyra helping him with the business…then there was Garrity. There were a lot of things. He didn't feel like he had to say it to her, but…he shrugged, smiling. It was stupid, to smile so much, but he did lately. "I'm happy."

A smile broke on her lips, her entire face lighting up. "Really?" she whispered.

He nodded quickly, smiling again. "Yeah. Yeah I'm happy Garrity." I don't get to say that. Almost never had reason to say it, but he was. He looked up again when Taylor ran over, her hands going to his, pulling. He lifted her hands up in the air, looking down. "What's up?"

Taylor glanced at Lyla, who was smiling politely at her. She glanced back up at him. Uh-oh, he thought, seeing that little look of Becky's cross her small features. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Ah…"

Lyla laughed. Tim shook his head, answering. "No. By the way, that's rude. She's standing right there."

Undeterred, Taylor continued. "She's very pretty."

"She can hear you."

"I don't care. You're pretty," she said, directing her comment to Lyla, who laughed again, thanking her. Taylor shrugged, looking back at him. "I'm hungry. Can we have pizza again?"

"We're going to Aunt Mindy's."

"Are we gonna' see Grandma and Grandpa?" That would be Luke's parents, Tim thought, and the answer was no. He did not venture over there without Luke as a buffer. Neither did Becky. Taylor waited another moment, scowling. "Are we going to see Gigi?" Which would be Becky's mother, he thought, shaking his head and the answer to that would once again be absolutely not. "Okay good." She looked at Lyla again, frowning. "What's your name again?"

"Lyla," Lyla answered, arching an eyebrow. "Lyla Garrity."

"I know Buddy Garrity."

"That's my dad."

Taylor laughed. "No he's not. He's fat and he yells. You're pretty and you don't yell."

"Taylor Timothy Cafferty," Tim drawled, grabbing hold of her hands and lifting her off her feet, which had her screeching and giggling. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, hissing. "Go play." He dropped her back down, maybe a little rougher than he intended and she stumbled slightly, shot him a scowl, and took off to the playset again. He sighed, shrugging. "Sorry about that."

"She's hilarious. She loves you." Lyla cocked her head again, whispering. "You love her very much."

"I do," he admitted. He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. "So how long you staying?"

"Few days. I'm in the process of moving from Stanford, so I'm going to be in Austin finding an apartment mostly, but I figured I'd see Daddy." Lyla reached out, pinching at his ribs. He tucked in, shooting her a warning look. "Thought I'd see you too. I didn't know that my dad didn't tell you about the divorce, I thought you might…whatever." She sighed hard. "I should get going. I wanted to say hello, maybe even show you the degree."

"Dr. Garrity," he whispered. Good for her. She had everything she'd wanted. And more, he thought, reaching to wrap his arms tight around her. She held him close, both of them silent for a minute. He closed his eyes and quickly sniffed at her hair. He smiled. Coconut. Like always.

"Did you just sniff my hair?"

"I always sniff your hair," he answered.

"I suppose I should be concerned since you said always and I just now realized it, but I'll let it go," she said, not moving. She smiled, her chin on his shoulder and her hands folded between his shoulder blades. "I'm so glad you're happy. You have no idea."

I think I have some idea. He finally broke away first, dropping a kiss to her forehead, breathing. "Until some day Garrity," he murmured.

"Maybe someday soon."

Whoa. He lifted his eyebrows slightly; that was a new one. She smiled, somewhat nervous. He touched his forehead to hers, whispering. "Maybe someday soon," he echoed, his eyes on hers. They'd never spoken about that before. He let go of her, nodding to the door, sighing. "Come on. I'll walk you out to your car." He turned around to wave at Taylor. "I'm going out front!" he yelled.

Taylor waved in response, crawling back up into the princess turret on her playset. That must mean okay, he thought, walking back up through the house. Lyla commented on the finishing touches he'd put on it. The fireplace, the window frames, and the pictures on the walls. That wasn't so much him as it was Becky, but he took credit and stepped off the front porch, going with her to her car. He frowned at it. "What is this thing doing in my driveway?"

Lyla leaned on the open door of the red convertible Beatle. "It's cute."

"It's girly."

"It's German."

"Doesn't make it any less girly." He placed his hands on his hips, watching her for a moment. "It was good seeing you Garrity," he whispered. It had been awhile, but…but he loved her. Hell, he'd driven straight to Tennessee because he'd panicked and broken down and wanted to see her. She thought there was some big thing behind it, so did Becky. Hell, so did just about everyone who heard the story.

To be honest, he just wanted to see her. He was in Dallas, he was like a day and a half drive away and he just went. He wanted to see her, he loved her, and he wanted to see her; that was the extent of his thought process when he arrived on her doorstep in Nashville.

Lyla smiled; she was so pretty, he thought, taking in how the sunlight fell on her face. God, he thought, closing his eyes briefly. He opened them and swallowed hard. It wasn't like anyone asked him, in fact, no one ever did and he'd probably punch them in the nose if they had asked him, but…Tim was quite sure that he'd fallen in love with Lyla Garrity when she was standing at the bus stop in elementary school and had turned around and smiled at him, the way she was now. Her dark eyes shining and her lips turned up over her perfect teeth. Tyra told him that you loved someone, flaws and all, and he didn't think there was one flaw on Lyla Garrity. Sure, he thought, maybe she had a bit of an overbite and her front teeth were a little too big. She complained about the weather more than the average person did on a daily basis and she liked restaurants that had more than one fork and spoon. She was a priss and a prude in public, but when you got her alone she was absolutely insane and adventurous.

And she wanted to help kids and she volunteered at church and she put on such a perfect image, but she was so messed up. Tim sighed, taking in her face, just…savoring it for a moment. He hadn't seen it in a long time. And then he reached for her, cupping her jaw in his palm. "What are you doing," she murmured, before he kissed her. I just do what I want sometimes, he thought, reaching back to pull her into his arms. She gasped and pushed her fingers through his hair. I have to get it cut, he thought idly, breaking the kiss a moment later, smiling. "Wow," she mumbled. She kissed him again, swallowing hard when she finally stepped back to her car.

She turned, bumping into it, her eyes closing. He smiled. I made you weak in the knees, he thought. He reached for her again and turned her around, whispering. "I'll see you around Garrity."

"Yeah," she whispered. She reached up and kissed him again, smiling. "See you around Tim." She let go, looking at him again. Scanning him. She leaned on her door again. She hesitated and then smiled quickly. "Why…six years ago…why did you come to Nashville?"

Great minds think alike. Tim shrugged. "I wanted to see you."

"There's nothing else?"

He shook his head. "No. I wanted to see you. I wanted to get away. Kill two birds with one stone."

Lyla laughed, a pretty, bubbly sound. She shook her head, biting at her lower lip. "You're crazy Tim. I love you."

"I love you too. Get out of here; go find your dad. Dr. Garrity."

"Goodbye," she called, climbing into the car, still laughing. She waved, backing out of the driveway and turning onto the street, her taillights disappearing as it grew darker. Tim waited until she was gone completely before he turned around, staring straight at Taylor.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Forever."

"That's a long time."

"You kissed Lyla."

So she was standing there for a long time. Tim shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"You love her?" She giggled, grabbing his knees again. "You loooove her!"

"Yes, I do," he answered, swinging her up into his arms, setting her on his hip. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, hanging on his every word. "I love her."

"You gonna' marry her?"

"I don't know." Maybe one day; if he ever found himself in Austin at the right time and place and if she ever found herself in Dillon at the right time and place. Tim was open to just about anything. It just had to be the right time. He smiled, carrying Taylor into the house. "Maybe. One day."

Taylor leaned on his shoulder. "If you have a kid, can you name them after me?"

"I can try, but you know you're named after someone."

"Mrs. Taylor," Taylor answered matter-of-fact. She cocked her head, her arms still around his neck. He set her on the kitchen counter, but she didn't loosen her grip, still looking at him. She smiled. "If you get a kid will you still love me Daddy Tim?"

He shook his head, smiling; she would probably be getting married one day and would still call him Daddy Tim. Or Papa Tim, that was another name for him that she tended to use. Tim lifted her off the counter. "Yes. I'll still love you. Come on, go wash your hands so we can go to Mindy's."

"I don't want spaghetti again, she always makes spaghetti!"

"She can't make anything else, now wash your hands." Tim glanced over his shoulder when there was knocking on the front door. He walked towards it, but it burst open before he had a chance to open it, his eyes widening as Lyla flung herself at him, knocking him into the wall. He grabbed her around her waist, instantly returning the kiss she planted on his lips. Holy crap, what's this about, he wondered, when her hands tore through his hair. Not that he really cared; hell it was so good to…oh, nevermind, she was pulling away. His eyes opened, staring, stunned.

She stepped away from him, her chest heaving as she regained control of her breathing. She pushed at his chest, angry. "That's for showing up in Nashville. I've wanted to do it since that morning I saw you on my doorstep." She pointed at him, her eyebrow lifting and her voice hard. "I'm done waiting for the right time and place and path and street and whatever. We'll work through this…" She hesitated, swallowing hard and stepping back, her voice faltering. "We'll work through things, and even if it doesn't seem like right now is the time, we can still…make a plan or something, but…but I think we can do this. I think we can…can do this Tim." She smiled nervously. "If not one day then very soon."

I think we can too, he thought, smiling. He glanced at Taylor, who was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her hands still wet with soap. The water was running. He glanced at Lyla, nodding and whispering. "Later Garrity."

"Goodbye." She turned on her heel, her nose in the air, and flounced out to her car. Tim watched her drive away again, laughing to himself. He turned around and closed the door, looking at Taylor.

Taylor shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You lied!"

"I didn't lie."

"You said you didn't have a girlfriend!" She went back into the bathroom and washed up, returning a moment later, her hand going into his as he led her from the house to his truck. She climbed in the back, into her booster seat. "Do you love her?"

"Always."

"When you gonna' get married?"

Tim climbed into the front seat, shrugging. He didn't even think he'd see her for another ten or so years. Maybe at like the next reunion or something. Hell, this morning if you'd asked, he'd say she was still married. Now plans were changing. He shoved his sunglasses on. "I don't know." He didn't think it would take too long. He shrugged. "Couple months. Maybe longer."

"Where you gonna' get married?"

He smiled. "Well, since I'm not getting married, it doesn't matter."

"But it does."

He sighed, playing into her game. "Well maybe Nashville. It's got some memories."

"Nashville!" She snorted. "You gotta' get married in Texas!"

Tim laughed, driving off towards the sunset, towards Dillon. He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Yeah? Why Texas?"

Taylor smirked, wearing her little heart-shaped sunglasses. She peered out the window, waiting a moment and then shrugged. "Cause' I'm in Texas. I'm gonna' be flower girl." She smiled wider. "And Texas Forever, Tim."

Yeah, he thought, smiling happily. Very happy. Happiest he'd probably been in his life. He grinned, stupidly and shook his head at the words of the six year old, who had to have heard them from him enough times. He sighed, glancing out at the land that belonged to him. Only him. And maybe one day someone else. Whether it was Garrity or not. "Yeah…" He sighed again, whispering. "Texas Forever."

**THE END**


End file.
